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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 method of common 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how lots of guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes 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 more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
The men loved 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 since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I was in love with my papa. That had altered too and I don't understand if something pertained to the other precisely, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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