So we get to the next evening and I make the call. He was honest and firm and as demanding of me as I was of others. He read me like a fucking book. He saw everything that I had been pretending not to be. I resented him for it and was so grateful at the same time.

I could see where the conversation was going. It was nice to be the mouse instead of the cat. Softly, softly treading down the path. Speaking quietly so my husband would not hear. Just listening to his voice demanding, commanding. I sat on the phone to this man who I did not not know. He saw me, he knew what I wanted he could feel it, all of it. "Good Girl" he kept repeating. "Good Girl". God it shit me. How dare he say that to me.

My heart raced as he spoke, "I know what you want. I know you. If I told you to get on your knees you would. Get on your knees. Do it now!" I did. Down on my knees on the phone to this person I didn't even know, I fucking hated him. I hated him for being right, I hated him for knowing. I hated myself for liking it, wanting it. when he said "Good Girl" again I hated him more. I hated him for saying it. I hated myself for liking it, wanting it.

I came so hard I was shaking, I could not speak. I hated myself, not for cumming but because I came when he told me to. My God it was delicious at the same time. My husband slept in the next room waiting for me to come to bed. He told me to go to bed, to sleep next to my husband, not to have sex with him and not to let my him see me naked.

I did all of those things because I was becoming a good girl.

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