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I even started taking the money, mostly because 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 girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he might actually charge more, especially if the guy 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 nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to spend, 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 extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be surprised the number of men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, however that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. 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. 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 knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I was in love with my father. That had changed too and I do not understand if one thing pertained to the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine dad and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child however as his wife. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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