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I even started taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret 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 excellent thing because he might really 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 extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the suggestions that really flushed my bank account. Deke provided 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 transport all rolled into one. He purchased 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 tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine and asked me if I 'd wed 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 knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not harm me, you know? I loved my daddy. That had changed too and I don't understand if something had to do with the other exactly, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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