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I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, because I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he might actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering a weird vehicle, a various strange vehicle every time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash 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 two. Selecting me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd marvel the number of guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the pointers that truly flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a girl, and understanding that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, however that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope 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 lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had actually altered too and I do not know if something related to the other exactly, however I do not 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 child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might speak to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child however as his other half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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