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I even started taking the cash, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering into a weird cars and truck, a various unusual vehicle each time, and wonder what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap 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 more youthful often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, however that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't injure me, you know? I loved my dad. That had altered too and I don't understand if one thing related to the other precisely, but 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. A few of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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