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It looked at her, cocked its head to the side and back again, then looked up. Searching the pink and orange hues of the sky, it chirped in short bursts before flying away again. Its wings batted against invisible resistance, lifted it higher and faster until was a black dot against the burning sky. She wished she were the bird. That the soaring exhilaration of the night would never go away. That the world would forever be at her fingertips. If only she could fly. Her gaze fell to the house behind the gate. Why had she brought him here? The imprisoning isolation of it reminded her of who she was. And wasn’t. Heavy fabric draped over her shoulders, fluttering at her thighs and enveloping her body. His fingers brushed her collarbones as he pulled it tighter, leaving only a sliver open for air to rush her skin, and let his hands fall to her hips. “What are you thinking?” It was the first full sentence he’d spoken to her, and the first English that wasn’t accented since she’d. What was she going to think? What would she say? She was walking in on her husband and daughter in the throws of extreme carnal passion. They weren’t making love. They weren’t having sex. They were fucking. Fucking in its most primal form. Bent over like creatures in the wild fucking out of pure lust and primitive drive. Carla felt open and exposed. But she didn’t try to stop her father so she could cover up. Her mother started walking towards the two of them. She couldn’t see the expression on her face though. She was standing right next to them on the couch now. “Hi sweetie. Good day?” Her mother asked as she bent in to kiss her husband. Carla’s father paused his fucking just long enough to peck his wife on the lips. He didn’t let go of her hair though, and her head was still tilted up towards the ceiling. “Mmmmm…..the best…” he growled as he shoved his cock deep inside his daughter. “So you finally did it, huh?” Carla felt her mother run a finger along her spine, from between.
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