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I even started taking the money, mostly because 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 silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyway, given that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering into a weird vehicle, a different odd car whenever, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how numerous guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, just a lady, and understanding that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal 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 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 person who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his other half. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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