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I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too useful 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do. I had not been a little lady in a very long time though. I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, because I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he could really charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always afraid someone would see me getting into a strange automobile, a various odd automobile whenever, and question what was going on.

I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent 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 actually guilty initially, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me would not harm me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had altered too and I do not know if one thing related to the other exactly, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love 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 various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.

I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child 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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