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I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful 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 silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd be stunned how numerous people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing 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. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to in fact like these guys for an hour or more. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and understanding that I truly 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 anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and cope 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you know? I was in love with my father. That had actually changed too and I do not know if something had to do with the other precisely, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine dad and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his wife. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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