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I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical 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 ladies do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, since I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he might in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering into a unusual vehicle, a various odd vehicle each time, and question 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 surprised how numerous guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the ideas that actually flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, just a lady, and knowing that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real 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 because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who loved me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I loved my papa. That had actually changed too and I do not know if something involved the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. 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 wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child however as his other half. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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