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I even began taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret 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 hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine 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 lonely since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might speak with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine daddy and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his other half. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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