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I even began taking the money, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the pointers that really flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and deal with them. However 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 knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you know? I loved my father. That had changed too and I don't know if one thing related to the other specifically, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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