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I even started taking the cash, mainly 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he might actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, 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 thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how many people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the suggestions that really flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? I loved my father. That had altered too and I do not understand if one thing involved the other specifically, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could speak to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and special and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his partner. We 'd done everything however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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