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I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt 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 ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could actually charge more, particularly if the guy 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.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a lady, just a girl, and knowing that I truly was just 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 better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, however that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. But 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 lonesome since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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