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I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method 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 two. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised how many people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, just a girl, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope 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 truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could speak to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child however as his other half. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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