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I even began taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many people 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 2. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . 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 due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, simply a lady, and understanding that I truly was simply 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 stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that method. Like a man who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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