Daughter raper

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Buffy shook with fear of being caught listening at the door, but her curiosity held her to the spot. Mom and Dad were going at it hot and heavy again.

"I spend twelve fucking hours a day in that office!" she heard her father yell. "Just how often do you think I'd get a chance to fuck around?” "Keep your voice down, Ed," her mother said. "You'll wake the kid. Or the neighbors.” "Fuck the neighbors!" her father yelled again. A slamming sound told her he must have gone into the bathroom. Her parents had their own. Buffy used the one in the hall.

The twelve-year-old pulled her bathrobe more tightly around her small body. The hallway was chilly and the girl had forgotten to put on her slippers. She brushed her red hair away from her face and tried to peek through the tiny crack where they'd forgotten to shut the door all the way. She saw her mother turning down the twin beds, a sad expression on her face in the light from the table lamp.

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