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I even began taking the money, primarily because 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 ridiculous things that little girls do. I had not been a little lady in a long time. I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, since I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea since he could in fact charge more, especially if the man I was opting for selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering a unusual cars and truck, a various weird vehicle whenever, and wonder what was going on.

Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how numerous people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the ideas that actually flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to in fact like these people for an hour or more. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, simply a woman, and understanding that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a skill 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 comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and deal with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring 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 woman next door possibly.

I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. 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 but as his better half. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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