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I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little woman in a long period of time though.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyway, given that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always scared somebody would see me getting into a weird automobile, a various odd car whenever, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how lots of guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I needed to act younger often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a lady, 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 skill for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real 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 brief 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, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them wanting 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 lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. 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 but as his spouse. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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