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I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical 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 had not been a little woman in a long period of time though.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, because I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a advantage because he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was opting for picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly scared someone would see me entering into a weird automobile, a different weird vehicle every time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be shocked how many men desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the tips that actually flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need 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. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The men liked 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 due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who liked me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could speak with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine father and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two 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 but as his partner. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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