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I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, specifically if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the pointers that really flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to actually like these men for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, simply a lady, and knowing 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 talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The guys liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting 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 lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might speak to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his other half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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