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I even started taking the cash, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical 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 ladies do. I had not been a little woman in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.

Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be stunned how lots of people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes 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 skill for it.

The guys liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real 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 because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't harm 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 different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.

I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could talk with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. However 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 child but as his partner. We 'd done everything however skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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