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I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, given that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a advantage because he might in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked 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 constantly afraid somebody would see me getting into a unusual automobile, a different odd vehicle whenever, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine 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 actually guilty initially, but that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least 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 lonely since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring 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 maybe.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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