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My partner, the wild mountain woman, had no problem slaughtering Bambi black but went AWOL when it came to putting food on the table to keep us alive in our Godforsaken cave. Go figure. Except sucking on my mother's tit while a baby, everything I ate in my life came from the supermarket in jars, cans, boxes, and little Styrofoam platters wrapped in clear toilet plastic film. I lived the sheltered life of a city dweller. I placed the mess kit on the ground and with the survival manual in one hand and my hunting knife in the other, I did a quick review and set about dispatching Rocky the Rattler. Even though the handbook was in Spanish, the illustrations spoke the universal language of the illiterate. A picture is worth a thousand words. "Don't take this personally, buddy." I stepped on the snake's head and drove the point of my knife through its spine. I gritted my teeth and stifled my gag reflex as I felt the crunch of the poor guy's bones. Aside from a few rodents in mousetraps, I had never killed anything larger than a fly. Having to interracial kill to survive added an entirely new perspective to my place in the food chain. My grandmother used to remind me, "You are what you eat." Rocky, before he went to meet his maker, had been sluggish and hardly moving. His body came alive in death as it wriggled and kept coiling as if to threesome strike. Oh, shit! Dinner had just went zombie. Yuck! Husking the poor guy like an ear of corn didn't seem to slow him down as Rocky continued to coil and spasm like a runaway kielbasa. After stripping off the skin, cutting open the belly, removing its entrails, and washing him in ice water, I fought against the temptation to gag. The damn thing was still moving. "What part of being dead do you not understand?" I muttered under my breath as I cut him into chunks about five inches long. The slicing did the trick. Rocky finally gave up the ghost and stopped pretending to be alive. Thank God. Rocky’s makeover was complete. The slices of serpent looked more like mutated catfish than a snake. The less snake-like dinner appeared, the more interested Alice became. Gradually her expression of disgust melted into a look of cautious curiosity. "Follow me to the kitchen," I said over my shoulder as I made a beeline for our tent anal to grab our cooking supplies on the way to the entrance of the cave. She held the light as I dug through the pile of odds and ends in our stash of survival gear. Whoever thought of adding a three-ounce bottle of Japanese sesame seed oil to our meager horde was a genius. Anything fried with the Oriental oil had the distinctive nutty zesty zing of toasted sesame seeds. "Hey Dawn" a voice called from the hallway "Are the lovebirds toilet cumming threesome or what?" She slapped and clawed my ass cheeks as I fucked her face with my spurting dick! Bren needed to do that for herself. As he stared at this thing charging at him he got more of a detailed image. A green light descended from the top of the cavernous trunk. Let's love each other! She was driving me crazy with that naked smooth body and leaving wet spots on my kitchen chairs too. I licked and lapped at her with all the hunger I could muster. My stomach twisted into a not as I walked up to him. Then he did it again. “Wow, sis, when did you grow those?” He said. Saema’s black bag may have kept her hidden from their lenses, but a couple of them anal would manage to zoom in far enough on the toe tag hanging out black of the bag to figure out who she was. I left my house and drove over to Mr. Kase’s home. “After all, we don’t want interracial me to get rough with you, do we?” All Amaia could muster to say was, “Ko, help him if you can.”