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I even began taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he might really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the suggestions that really flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? I loved my dad. That had actually altered too and I don't understand if something had to do with the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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