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I even began taking the money, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd marvel the number of men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms 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. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really 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; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, just a lady, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine and asked me if I 'd marry 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 lonesome because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt 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 wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine dad and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his spouse. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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