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I even began taking the cash, mainly since 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 girls do. I had not been a little woman in a long time. I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he could really charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me entering a odd car, a various strange automobile every time, and wonder what was going on.

Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how numerous men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, just a woman, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.

Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't harming anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back 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 understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed 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 various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.

I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could speak to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and unique and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his partner. 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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