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I even started taking the money, mostly due to the fact that 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd marvel the number of guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a girl, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent 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 been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 lonely because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I loved my father. That had actually altered too and I don't understand if one thing involved the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might speak to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and liked. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his other half. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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