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I even started taking the cash, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common 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 girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen 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. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how many guys wanted precisely 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 father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms 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 since I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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