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I even began taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Method excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might speak with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his better half. We 'd done everything however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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