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I even started taking the cash, mostly 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do. I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.

I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to spend, 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 guys wanted 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 daddy's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the ideas that truly flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these guys for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a girl, and understanding that I truly 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 things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.

The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine and asked me if I 'd marry 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? 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 lady next door perhaps.

I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child however as his other half. We 'd done everything however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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