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I even began taking the money, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, since I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering a strange vehicle, a different strange car each time, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be shocked how numerous men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, just a girl, and understanding that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and deal 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 understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could speak to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and unique and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his better 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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