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I even began taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, 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. I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea because he could in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was opting for picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me getting into a strange cars and truck, a various weird 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 additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to actually like these men for an hour or more. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, just a woman, and understanding that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much 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 really guilty in the beginning, however that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I loved my papa. That had actually altered too and I don't know if something related to the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.

I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could speak with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and liked. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his better half. 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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