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I even started taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash 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 2. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel the number of men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that 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 girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least 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 lonesome because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure 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 child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and liked. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his partner. 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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