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I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way 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 2. Choosing me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd marvel how many people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . 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 money to spend and it was the suggestions that really flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who enjoyed me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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