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I even started taking the money, 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, 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 additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to really 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 female, simply a woman, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyhow, 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 comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least 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 since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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