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I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be shocked how many men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, simply a woman, and understanding that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real 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 males loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed 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 really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I loved my papa. That had changed too and I do not know if one thing had to do with the other precisely, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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