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I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and understanding that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, but that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who loved me wouldn't injure me, you know? I loved my father. That had actually altered too and I don't know if one thing had to do with the other exactly, but I do not believe in coincidence either. 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 wished to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me in the beginning, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the male who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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