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I even began taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method 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 hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he might in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much 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. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised the number of people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope 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 lonesome since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you understand? 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 girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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