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I even started taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way 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 hadn't been a little lady in a long time though. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.

I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way excessive 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. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised the number of guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to really like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a girl, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.

Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, however that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who loved me would not injure me, you know? 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 different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.

I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could speak to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real father and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his partner. 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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