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I even began taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly 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. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how lots of people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and live with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine daddy and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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