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I even began taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he could in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how many people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the tips that actually flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap 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 since I had to really like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine 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 since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you know? I was in love with my father. That had changed too and I don't know if one thing related to the other precisely, 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me in the beginning, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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