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I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too practical 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage 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, however you 'd be shocked how numerous men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the pointers that actually flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk 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 since I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The men 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 due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't harm 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 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 really was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and unique and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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