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I even began taking the money, primarily 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do. I had not been a little lady in a very long time though. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really 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, but you 'd be shocked how many men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, just a girl, and understanding that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent 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 liked 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 because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that method. Like a person who loved me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most 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 girl next door possibly.

I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his wife. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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