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I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, simply a lady, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? 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 various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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