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I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, given that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could really charge more, specifically if the guy I was opting for picked me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always afraid someone would see me getting into a unusual car, a different odd automobile every time, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be shocked how many men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I loved my papa. That had actually changed too and I don't understand if one thing involved the other precisely, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and special and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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