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I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common 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 lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd marvel how many people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated 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 things 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 needed to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, simply a woman, and understanding that I really 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 skill 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 convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine father and almost 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 couldn't assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his spouse. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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