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I even started taking the money, primarily since I was much too practical 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could really charge more, particularly if the guy I was opting for selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering a weird vehicle, a different strange car every time, and question what was going on.
Method 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 outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because 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 require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, simply a lady, and understanding that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, 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 convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 lonesome because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most 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 lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and unique and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his other half. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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