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I even began taking the money, mostly 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 just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he might in fact charge more, particularly if the guy 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 truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Method 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 absurd, however you 'd be surprised the number of men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw 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 mostly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, however that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. But 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 because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not harm me, you know? I was in love with my papa. That had altered too and I don't understand if one thing had to do with the other precisely, however I do not believe in coincidence either. 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might speak with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real father and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child however as his other half. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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