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I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, 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 ridiculous, but you 'd marvel how many men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to really like these men for an hour or more. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, just a woman, and knowing that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, 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 really guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and live with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them desiring 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 woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and loved. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child however as his partner. We 'd done everything however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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