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I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way 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 long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how lots of guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more typically 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 representative, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, simply a lady, and knowing that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal with them. However they were in love with 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 actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his partner. We 'd done whatever but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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