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I even began taking the money, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply 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 woman in a long time.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he could actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid someone would see me getting into a odd cars and truck, a various unusual automobile every time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Choosing me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd marvel the number of people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa'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 supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, simply a woman, 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 anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me would not harm 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 wanted 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 think of the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine dad and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his other half. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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