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I even began taking the money, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, given that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea since he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was choosing selected me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering into a strange cars and truck, a various strange automobile each time, and question what was going on.
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 absurd, but you 'd be surprised how numerous men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, however that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back 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 lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine father and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his other half. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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