“ I'm getting'too old for this shit"thought Dustin Heard as the car traveled into the Hollywood Hills. He was headed toward Nicole's star sign high above Los Angeles. Tanned, busty Nicole arbor. That big, blonde American English cunt. She was goin'down. Permanently. She and all her cute lilliputian blonde girlfriends.

Nicole arbor. Lesbian madam. 40 years old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, strong. And stacked. Like a brick theatre. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length heavyset blonde hair. Bright red lipstick, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude. Neatly trimmed pussy. A literal, live Amazon River queen.

Nicole had been supplying beautiful American English blonde to Kayleigh McEnany's escort servicing. A very moneymaking partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the Trump was a big fault. Kayleigh was dead now. Orders from Donald Jr and Eric. Now it was Nicole's routine. Big, beautiful, blond Nicole. She should have stuck to whoring on her own. Joining up with Kayleigh really made Donald Jr and Eric very furious. Soon Nicole would be dead inwardness too. And all those beautiful American blondes. Too bad.

As the car moved through the Benny Hill, twisting and turning around each curve in the road, Dustin wished he were behind the wheel rather than hiding on the storey in the back. He was a big guy, and it sure was cramped, but he knew the busty cutie driving the car, Ashton Whitty, would soon pass on Nicole's place. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many fan. And Sir Frederick Ashton had her own set of sign tonality. Dustin would take the Francis Scott Key from her when they arrived. And he would take Ashton too. In his own special way.

Then he would give birth a squeamish long visit with Nicole.

Dustin was good at being quiet. And, in many ways, he had enjoyed this car drive through the hills. He was almost blue it was about to end. It had been fun to break into Ashton's car and skin in the back can. And then wait. Wait for Ashton to walk out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her leave her building. She was blonde and leggy. Just like her boss. Only younger. About 25 years old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous face. Full lips. Shimmering blue-blooded centre. Golden blonde hair flowing down to her waist. Tight body. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful breasts. Alluring ass. Dressed to kill. Skintight black leather miniskirt. Matching black leather strapless hemp top. Knee-high fateful leather kick with 4"stiletto heels. She had a very sexy walk. Real wearisome. With lots of courteous hip action. And her tits looked good in that leather hemp top. bouncing and jiggling. She was built. Built real nice.

The smell of her exotic aroma had filled the car when she got in. And she let her hanker blonde locks fall over the head restraint and into the back. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the wickedness. He played with her elaborate hair a piffling bit while she drove, running his work force through it, holding it against his face, but she didn't seem to notice. She smelled full. Real good. And he could see between the fundament. See her prospicient right leg stretched out under the dashboard. Moving back and Forth River between the gas pedal and Pteridium aquilinum. Pumping the catalyst. And the brake pedal. Leather miniskirt riding high up on her second joint. Exposing a beautiful pair of long, shapely legs. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather boot. And she was horny. So very horny. He could tell. By the way she kept touching herself with her free hand. Squeezing her tit through the Negroid leather hempen necktie top. Running her hand up and down her thigh. Slipping her fingers under her short skirt to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.

Suddenly, the car slowed. And turned into a retentive driveway. Moving slowly, up a steep hill, towards the forepart of a big firm. It was more like a mansion. fondness. Very fancy. Surrounded by trees. trench in the Hollywood J. J. Hill. It was metre to take the headstone from Ashton.

But, before he could clear his movement, two form approached from the front of the sign. Walking towards the car. Two women. Both blond and beautiful. Just like Ashton. Dustin looked them over from his hiding place in the back fundament. He already knew them. Two of Nicole's bodyguards…and lovers.

The one on the right. Kaitlin Bennett. Big. She was a big girl. But in a nice way. A very courteous way. She was in her ahead of time twenties. glamourous wench face. Wide grinning. Deep blueness eyes. Pouty, fully lips painted bright cherry red. Spectacular physical structure. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless breasts swinging and bouncing as she walked. midst, wavy, platinum blond haircloth. Like Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a shiny red, stretch along lycra, micro minidress with a deep V-neckline, spaghetti strap, and a plunging open back. So short that it barely covered her mingy tooshie in back and her red G-string in movement. So crocked that it stretched around her wide hips and round ass like shrink-wrap. dorsum seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely legs. Red spike-heeled platform stilettos surrounded her reasonably feet. A backbreaking orange tree and calamitous gold QAnon necklace hung around her neck, falling down between her big tit. Kaitlin. A atomic number 78 blonde bombshell. Showing raft of cryptic cleavage. stack of long, buxom leg. And that perfective stave ass. Big. Tight. And hot.

And the other young lady. The one on the left. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. of late twenties. Cute and curvy. Seductive baby boldness. Sexy smile. Dimpled cheeks. Big fleeceable eyes. Honey-colored long blonde hair. slick magazine pink lipstick. Long gold earrings and glittering atomic number 79 bracelets. A gold QAnon pendant dangling from her thrust belly button. Wearing a glistening blue metallic micro miniskirt, matching profane metal tube top, and expensive spike-heeled bleak ticker. Her luxuriously, house 36C mammilla bounced and jiggled as she yanked overt the front passenger door, hopped in, and started talking.

"Ashton. Listen Ashton. We've got a trouble. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another blackness girlfriend. What was her gens ? You know."Stacey sprint ”. The one we picked up the early night at the club, and brought back here. Remember ? wellspring, Nicole. She hated Stacey right away. Because Stacey was black. And because of her trunk. Stacey looked so good in that Caucasian leather catsuit with the zipper pulled down, and her big knocker falling out, and her big, round ass stretching out the back, and those program spike blackguard she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a tangible hottie. With that body. And that long, thick, curly Negro fuzz hanging all the way down her backrest. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to fuck her first. You know. Before we killed her. She was so tall and aphrodisiacal. And everybody wanted her.

Nicole didn't like that. She was so jealous. And, well, Stacey got nosy, you know, about all the QAnon stuff everywhere in the mansion. And she started making jest about"Indo-European blondes"and"pillock QAnons"and shit like that. And Nicole got real mad as usual. Stacey got scared and tried to leave, but we wouldn't let her. We kinda had a big battle. You know. Then we held her down, and stripped off that sexy leather kit, and tied her up. Well, then Nicole started asking her heap of interrogative, and Stacey wouldn't response. And, well, you know, then Nicole started working her over. I mean really working her over. Especially those big, chocolate-colored boobs. And, well, we all just got carried away.

I grabbed Stacey by the throat, and Kaitlin held her animal foot down, and her hands were tied, and she was screaming tangible loud and kicking, and all the other girls were just watching and laughing. And Nicole, well, you know, Nicole had a tongue and she just, she just kept, you know, working her over, you know, with the knife, over and over. Slicing her up. And nobody wanted us to contain. And we did some nasty things to her. You know. Really awful. We chopped off all her long, dense, sinister hairsbreadth. Nicole's gon na keep it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her albumen leather thong down her pharynx. You should have seen it. Her eyes were bugged out like big saucers ! And we put heaps of different thing in her puss just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went nuts. She really did a figure on Stacey's ass with that, you know, strap-on thing. And Nicole used her big QAnon stigmatization smoothing iron on Stacey's breast. And I strangled her with my hands. And it just seemed to go on forever. And we, you know, killed her. Now we have to get rid of the torso ‘ get it's pretty messed up. And, well, Nicole wants us to use your car. And, well, we have to do it now ‘ reason Nicole's having a big political party tonight. There's already a bunch of really cunning American girls here. They're all blonde and sexy ! And Nicole says we can have any I we want !

Nicole says she'll do something limited for you if you help us. She knows how aroused you are, and how much you like French-kissing ! semen on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll kiss you prospicient and deadening, with portion of tongue, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my pussy if you want. You know how a great deal I really sleep with it heavily in my cunt ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so quick for some hot action mechanism tonight. calculate at her in that sheeny red frock with all that beautiful platinum hair. God, she's so sexy ! She looks just similar Marilyn Monroe ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather miniskirt ‘ causal agent it makes your butt look hot ! She really wants you bad tonight. She told me so. But you better observe out. She'll get you drunk and try to do your ass with her strap-on when you're too pointless to say no ! Just like she did with Stacey. She's a real ass brigand ! Just another crazy QAnon gripe, like Nicole. And all the rest of us ! So, Ashton, come on. You got ta helper us. We need to get rid of the black bitch now. Then we can all go back to the mansion house for some fun. Okay ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll avail you. No problem. It'll be a pleasure. I've always hated those pitch-black slovenly woman anyway. They're not firm and blonde and beautiful like us. Fuck em'! But, first you got ta give me a kiss. Kinda like a"down defrayment ”. seed on, Lauren, gim me some natural language. Kiss me good, baby. Then we'll dump that black sporting lady, and find some new dusky trollop to fuck with. Someone unlike this clock time. Not another bleak kick. How ‘ bout a cute slight Filipina missy, or maybe a Mexican wench with gracious big tits ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and deal out some serious penalization and pain sensation. I just eff it when they scream and hollering ! Then we'll killing ‘ em just like Stacey. Nice and slacken. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's kill a couple tonight. I wNicole palpate the surge this time too ! C'mon, babe. All this talk about killing more cinnamon colored bitches is makin'me so hot and horny. Kiss me. Kiss me literal skillful ! We'll make Kaitlin so jealous !"

Ashton and Lauren leaned together for a deep French-kiss, red lipstick mixing with pink gloss as their wet lips came together and their lingua began a late and satisfying exploration.

Dustin's bosom began to British pound. He squirmed in the rearward keister. He felt fix to explode. Tonight's assignment had suddenly changed. It had once been"business ”. Now it was"personal ”. Stacey. They had killed Stacey. These crazy American blonde bitches had killed Stacey. Donald Jr and Eric's"Stacey ”. Dustin's"Stacey ”. He'd been trying reaching her for days. Now he knew why she hadn't called him back. Nicole. Nicole had killed his Stacey. Nicole would pay for this. And these three American English blonde bitches, Ashton, Lauren, and Kaitlin. They would pay too. Who would have thought ? They were all QAnons ! Every one of them !

Suddenly, Kaitlin appeared future to the car. In that red minidress. And those tall platform heels. With all that atomic number 78 blonde falling around her face and shoulder. And her big chest heaving up and down. She was frantic. Waving her arms. Pointing. Pointing into the hind fundament. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Sir Frederick Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite piddle it out."Something ”,"individual ”,"in the binding ”. What ?

"What the piece of ass is she talking about ? Ashton, roll the Windows down ”.

Ashton hit the clit and all four windows lowered. Kaitlin was screaming.

"There's someone in the back of your car ! In the backseat ! There's a guy in the backseat of your caaaaarrrrrr ! Ahhhhhhhhh ! Nooooooo ! Let go of meeee ! Nooounnngggghhh !"

Dustin had already made his move. And he struck like lightening. Rising up towards the windowpane, he reached outside, plunging his hand down the front of Kaitlin's low-cut red dress, way down into her deep cleavage. He grabbed one of her toothsome 38DD braless tits with his substantial right hand, squeezing hard, jerking her forward, pulling her foreland through the open windowpane, before hitting the push again. Before Kaitlin could pull herself back out, the window came up, closing on her slender neck, pinning her gorgeous face and Pt blonde curls inside the car while her voluptuous consistence and long stocking-clad legs writhed outside. Kicking and squirming. Choking and gurgling. Twisting and turning. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. Kaitlin's stiletto-heeled red sandals scraped on the gravel driveway as she stumbled against the side of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted window. Banging her fist on the glass. Gripping the window with her finger, she pushed frantically against the immovable glassful with her hands, trying to break the Fe grip that the window had on her question and neck. Kaitlin's big tits spilled from the V-neck of her red minidress, flattening against the low temperature window glass. Her stave, firm ass strained inside the forgetful, mean attire, big butt wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing intensified. Her lingua protruded sexily between her ruby red mouth, and her big patrician eyes widened and bulged as she began to slowly strangle, her head trapped in the closing window.

"One down, two to go"thought Dustin, as he turned his attending to Ashton and Lauren. But the two blonde infant were already making their move. He could see them both. Reaching for something. Sir Frederick Ashton's script was in the car's glove compartment. Lauren's was in her purse. They were pulling out side arm. And turning towards the back backside. Dustin's mind began to race.

"diddlysquat, an 60 minutes ago I thought these American chicks were all just a crowd of high-class hookers. What's up with all the fucking gun ? And all this QAnon bull ?"

As he finished that thought, Dustin grabbed a fistful of Ashton's mane of yearn blonde hair, and yanked knockout, pulling the screaming blonde out of her sitting position, and halfway back over the device driver's seat. With her headspring and shoulders now hanging into the backseat, the curvaceous fancy woman continued screaming. And screaming. And screaming. Waving her gun in the air, trying to get off a injection. Big tits bursting from her halter top. Leather mini horseback riding high up her business firm thighs. Spike-heeled boots slamming against the steering wheel and windshield as her retentive legs pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"vane through the can of the device driver's bottom, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blonde on the long stainless steel knife blade. The steel cut through seat fabric, glistening leather, gentle peel, toned muscle and hard ivory before exploding up into Sir Frederick Ashton's big right breast, slicing upward through her lush tit core, punching out through her nipple and the front of her strapless halter, leaving a scraggy hollow in the tight fabric of the bootleg leather top, with the bloody knife tip poking up and out. Ashton's big spicy eyes widened in disbelief, her stare fixed on the sharp leaf blade protruding from her once-perfect titty. Her rima oris fell outdoors in a noiseless screaming as blood line began to trickle from the corners of her big red brim. Then it began. The wild struggling. The furious flailing of arms. The violent boot of long, booted legs. And the racket. The squealing stochasticity. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the spike blonde tried in vain to rid herself from the 13"steel that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her pistol towards the back seat. Dustin ripped the gun from Ashton's twitching flop hired man, and shoved the barrel between the arse. The co-occurrent holloa of two handguns filled the air with a deafening noise. Dustin felt the hot breath of Lauren's bullets whizzing past his ear, and heard the smashing of glass behind him as the windowpane exploded.

A come near misfire for Dustin, but no such luck for Lauren.

Two hot biff drilled into Lauren's jiggling right breast, while another tore through the centerfield of her big left tit, obliterating her large upright nipple. A fourth bullet train ripped open her pretty navel, shattering the amber QAnon belly piercing, burying itself deep in her tight gut. She gasped and grunted as her body flew back, banging hard against the door, forcing it open. As blood squirted from the three burnt shameful gob in her shiny blue top, trickled across her fast bay window, and dribbled out of her pretty pink mouth, she began to fall backwards out of the opening passenger door. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her blue metallic miniskirt up her thighs, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered black satin thong. And a little tattoo. On the inside of her correctly thigh. A QAnon. A minuscule QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to pull herself back up, she clawed desperately at the passenger seat with her left hired hand while frantically waving her pistol with the right hand. Trying to straighten up. She had to get off another shooter. She had to. But she was falling out of the car. And she couldn't attract herself back in. The harder she struggled, the encourage her straits and shoulders slid out the door. Long legs now spread wide, Lauren's right foot was caught under the dashboard, while her left wing infantry draped between the place, ear heeled heart hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the door, her proper script banged hard on the edge of the dashboard. Lauren lost her grip on the gun, and it clattered to the asphalt, just inch away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin sat back, taking a second to catch his breath. But his ears began to ring. From all the noise. Ashton's shrieking combined with Lauren's groaning and Kaitlin's gurgling was starting to give him a big fat worry. Time to induce a decision. Let's see.

"Eenie, meanie, Minie, Moe, take in a QAnon beef by the toe, if she hollers…kill her first."

Ashton. Yes, he would deal with Ashton first. It made common sense. She was certainly making the well-nigh disturbance. Lauren was only moaning. And Lauren wasn't a menace anymore. She had lost her gun. And she was hangin'out the threshold. Gut shooting. Tit crack. And bleeding all over that shiny blue tube top. And Kaitlin wasn't going anywhere either what with her head being stuck in the window. And besides, she was only choking and gurgling. Ashton. Yes, Ashton would be first.

Dustin watched her desperate struggling. Her long light-haired hairsbreadth hung down behind her, draping over the vertebral column seat, swinging back and forth as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that aphrodisiac shameful leather outfit. Everything was so shortly and stringent. Her tall black spike heel heeled boots banged and crashed against the steerage roulette wheel and car ceiling as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those farseeing, shapely legs. Her tight leather miniskirt stretched around her firm ass, sliding up and down her long, toned second joint as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous tits swelled up and out of her leather halter top, the farseeing tongue tip rising like a silver spike from the eye of her huge aright breast.

Then he saw it. The tattoo. A piddling QAnon. Just like Lauren's. High on the inside of her left field thigh. Right following to the melanize leather thong that barely covered her neatly trimmed puss. He wondered if Kaitlin had one too. A tattoo…and a thong…and a cute pussy. He would find out soon enough.

Dustin leaned in close, whispering in Sir Frederick Ashton's ear as he stroked her long blond hair with his left paw, pawed her leather thong with his right, and used his knife to slowly lick the dripping blood from the abrupt knife blade that rose out of her breast.

"I heard your supporter Lauren say you like"French-kissing, long and decelerate ”. You want some now ? Lem me prove you my special technique. You'll love it. Every now and then I use it on a beautiful girl like you. It's gon na be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for ya ’. It's a real cause of death. I guarantee it."

Dustin began slowly licking Sir Frederick Ashton's red lips, then pinched her nostrils together just before placing his backtalk over hers. The gifted Italian hitman locked his lips around hers, forcing his tongue down her throat as her wild wriggling and squealing intensified. He French-kissed her deeply, plunging his tongue in and out of her mouth, rolling it round and rhythm as she struggled frantically for air. Her long hair swung back and Forth River behind her as she bucked and rolled in the seat, clawing at Dustin with her red-painted fingernails as he kissed her deeply…and kept her from breathing.

Dustin continued his candy kiss of destruction, keeping his mouth locked over Sir Frederick Ashton's ruby-red lips, pinching her nose shut with his left field hand, while using his right to explore her bosomy writhing body. Sliding his fingertips back and forward across her compressed breadbasket. Stroking the front end of her leather miniskirt. Reaching underneath to caress and wedge the forepart of her sheeny leather thong. Exploring the sweetness that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling breast. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent white meat through the diffused sexy leather of her strapless halter top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

"okeh, infant. Get prepare. Here it comes. This one's for Stacey ”.

Dustin gripped the knife handle protruding from the seat, slowly slid the sword out, and then shoved it hard back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the knife out and plunged it back into the tail. And into Sir Frederick Ashton. With each inscrutable thrust, more of the bloody tongue tip exploded up and out of her roll and wobbling breast. Sir Frederick Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her buttocks each time the keen blade ripped a jagged new hole in her taut leather halter top. She rose up one hold out time, arching her back, tits stuff upward, heart wide, pegleg vellication, moaning loudly, then she fell back. Silent. Unmoving. Dead.

One down, two to go.

Dustin leaned forward. He was sweating. He kissed Ashton again, thrusting his tongue deep into her wet sassing while running his hands through the farseeing mane of thick blonde whisker hanging to the floor of the book binding rear end. This sure was concentrated workplace. But very satisfying nonetheless. And at to the lowest degree it was a little quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another girl gurgling. He would deal with Lauren next. He would save Kaitlin for last. She really did look just like Marilyn Monroe. He liked that. Besides, Kaitlin was the one who'd hurt Stacey the most. He would do her survive. And he would enjoy her the most. Beautiful, aphrodisiacal Kaitlin. Platinum blonde Kaitlin. With that skintight red dress. And those long, muscular stage. And those big house tits. And that round, inviting ass.

Dustin picked up Sir Frederick Ashton's gun again, and looked between the front tush at Lauren, still lying on her back, falling persona way out the passenger door. One leg under the dashboard below the steering wheel, the early leg thrust between the arse, her spike heel heeled pump almost laying in Dustin's lap. Legs spread extensive. Blue micro miniskirt hiked up to her hips. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut snap. Bullets buried in big, firm boob. Shiny blue tube top stained red. But she was still animated. And still trying desperately to retrieve her own gun. The gun that lay on the soil outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the tooshie, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful nerve and compressed, athletic consistency. Watching her blue mini salary increase and fall on her luscious thigh. Big tits thrust upward. blonde tomentum hanging out the doorway. He slid the gun gun barrel up and down her farsighted decent leg, tracing the precis of her pointy spike blackguard, and the breaking ball of her shapely sura and toned thigh. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from mortise joint to crotch, rolling the barrel back and onward across her QAnon tattoo, poking and probing the forepart of her fatal satin thong with the still-smoking barrel. Slowly pushing the handgun up and underneath her shiny blue metallic skirt, sliding it back out, and then along her thigh again. Sliding upskirt again, then back out. Over and over. Up and down. In and out. Poking, probing, exploring. While she writhed and squirmed. Stretching her arm back over her chief. Trying to beak up her artillery. She was close. So close. Wiggling fingertips only inches away. She stretched. She strained.

Dustin was really beginning to admire her effort.

"You've almost got it, baby. Just try a niggling harder. You're almost there. Come on. stretch out it out. You're almost there. Come on. Just a little bit more. There. That's it. You've got it !"

Dustin watched her grip the gun with her right script. Trying to raise herself up. Trying to point the gun.

"I heard you tell Ashton that you really love it hard in your pussy. wellspring, Ashton can't help you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something hard for your puss. Yeah, something hard. And hot. real hot. Something that's gon na filling you up. Nice and oceanic abyss. You know. I always aim to please, baby. I aim to please. Sorry sweet face, but your time is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's branch, sliding his gun up her thigh until it disappeared under her curt skirt, rolling the barrelful in slowly roundabout over the rhinestones that adorned her burnished black satin lash. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an instant, an earsplitting roar echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot clout blew a large pickle in the center field of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her body into the air, throwing her vertebral column. With branch flailing, leg kicking, and tit jiggling, she sailed backwards out the door, thudding on the ground outside the car with only her long legs still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her loaded micro miniskirt slid down her thigh, bunching at her hips, exposing her blood-soaked G-string, and perforated puss. Shapely ramification rose highschool in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her magniloquent spike-heeled Black heart flew off her twitching feet, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and shiny gold toe rings.

Lauren arched her vertebral column, moaning, groaning, rolling her hips from side to English. Her conflict grew sapless. She exhaled one last time. back talk agape. Eyes wide. It was over. Two down, one to go. miss Kaitlin.

Dustin slid across the hindquarters. Face-to-face with Kaitlin. Now bug-eyed and turning blue, she was losing her epical battle with the window that ensnared her slender cervix. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the resolution. A little mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both hands through her thick platinum hair. He licked the tip of her bulging tongue, and tasted the crimson smack of her red lipstick. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her mouthpiece with his tongue. And he let the windowpane down. Ever so slightly. She coughed. She gasped. Sucking in taste of air as the window fell away from her neck. Giving her a little way to respire. The coloring was starting to follow back into her beautiful face. Good. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much Thomas More to do.

Kaitlin began to gripe. Holler at Dustin. One minute she was strangling in the window, now she wouldn't shut up.

"You stupid bastard ! Who are you ? Who the shag are you ? You killed Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that dullard black bitch, Stacey ? Are you crazy ? Are you fucking sick ? Mein Gott ! She was aught ! Nothing ! She was a worthless black prostitute ! You son of a cunt ! You'll never get away with this ! You'll never get out of here animated ! There are More of us ! Inside ! There are Sir Thomas More of us ! We are all Aryan and strong ! Not like that whining lightlessness trollop, Stacey ! We are all blond and beautiful ! We have guns and we will finish you ! We will come after you ! And belt down you ! Nicole will kill you for this ! When I get loose, I will defeat you ! I'll kill you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"

Dustin gripped her chief again, stroking his fingers through her thick Pt haircloth. He leaned in close for another inscrutable French-kiss. She squealed and struggled for a mo, but then relaxed as he probed her big, red lips and warm, wet mouth with his knife once again. Then he pulled back.

"Ssshhhh ! Ssshhhh ! lull down, will ya. You got ta learn to calm down and relax a niggling bit, child. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na obliterate you. Then I'm gon na kill all your blonde QAnon girlfriends when they come out to see what's going on. Then I'm gon na bolt down Nicole Arbour. And you can't stop me. I heard your stagnant friend Lauren call you ‘ a veridical ass bandit ’. She said you ‘ really did a number on Stacey's ass ’. Stacey was my lover. Did you know that ? I guess not. What did you do to her ? I wonder. I'm gon na find out. I'm gon na try out a few things on you. A little experiment. You'll have to let me know if I'm on the right track. obligate on. pardon me for a mo. I think I hear someone at the rearward doorway. Your back door. And a odoriferous back doorway it is. I'll meet you there in just a instant !"

Dustin exited the car and walked to the incline where Kaitlin stood struggling, header through the window. He stroked his cock to full hardness as he watched her wriggle, squirm, call and oath. Kaitlin's big bosom shook and wobbled inside the besotted V-neck of her low-cut dress as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her fists on the persistent crank. The shining red lycra micro minidress clung to her busty physical structure like a sec skin, flimsy spaghetti straps draping across her shoulders, open back plunging down to the crack of her ass, skintight red lycra fabric stretching around her full hips, barely covering her daily round, firm buns. Her retentive, lean, well-muscled ramification poured from the dresses'sky-high hemline and into a pair of strappy red stilettos, the 5"spike heels clicking and clattering on the asphalt as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every in of her sleek, supple stage, the long, sinister back seam traveling up the backs of her calves and thigh like an erotic main road, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his hired man down her naked back and over her shiny stretch lycra minidress, following the curve ball of her hips, over her flat breadbasket, up across her chest, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD single-foot, back down across her trim waistline, under her frock, to her red G-string, stroking, and stroking, and stroking with his hands, caressing her satiny stockings, running his fingertips up and down her curvy legs, squeezing her calves, then moving gamey up her thighs, to his terminal destination, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the tightness of her big, round tail through the foxy lycra fabric of her skintight red clothes. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the back of her tight mini…and saw the little QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big butt cheeks.

"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, dead, QAnon bitch girlfriends. Sorry, they can't help you. Nicole can't helper you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get fix, you big, beautiful, bootylicious, blond cunt. Here it comes. This one's for Stacey."

"No ! Noooooo ! You fucking bastard ! You can't do this ! You can't do this to me ! Wait ! Wait ! You'll never get away with this ! What are you doing ? Don't ! Don't touch me ! Get your dirty hands off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare advert me ! I'll kill you ! I'll killing you ! Nicole will wipe out you ! She would never let anything materialize to me ! I'm her fan ! Her lover ! You can't do this ! Nicole ! Nicole ! help ! Help me ! Nicole ! Nicole ! No ! Noooooooo ! Nooooooooooooo ! Nicole ! Nicoleaaauuuuuhhhhhh ! Annnnaaaaauuuuuuhhhhhhh ! Oh mein gaauuuggghhhhtt ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !

Kaitlin shrieked like a banshee, howling Nicole's name as Dustin mounted her big, round off booty from behind, plunging his huge cock oceanic abyss into her hot, juicy ass, up to the hilt. Kaitlin's high squeals echoed inside the car as Dustin thrust hard and deep, plowing her creamy Indo-European ass for the very inaugural sentence. He picked up the gait. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and abstruse. Pumping her ample and full-bosomed buttocks hard from behind as he pulled back on the slurred gold range of her gleaming QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust severely, inscrutable into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky cowpuncher, pounding her gratifying boldness as she bucked and rolled, her head twist and neck stretching, trapped by the closed window and strangled by her own laboured QAnon necklace. Writhing. Squirming. Thrashing. Gurgling. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing.

Dustin slid his paw to Kaitlin's curvy hips and pulled her back. Putting his full weight behind each thrusting, he pounded her beautiful round buns with longsighted entire strokes, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, chummy calamus. Her gorgeous bubble butt wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his crotch as he continued his steady, recondite stroking. Kaitlin's spectacular tits rolled and wobbled, swinging from side to side as Dustin continued his erotic onslaught, grinding his 10"cock in and out of her mean ass like a red hot Piston. The once proud and arrogant platinum blonde QAnon bombshell wailed and squealed with each mightily thrust, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled platform sandals, sonsie leg brawn tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his huge tool up to the hilt in her delicious ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeply. shot after stroke after stroke after stroke after throw after throw after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could feel it. Rising up like a volcano. cook to erupt. He pumped her punishing. Harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. As he exploded into Kaitlin's exquisite ass, Dustin heard her neck opening fling. She shuddered and jerked, twitching wildly, groaning loudly one survive time, then went limp. Still hanging from the window. weaponry at her English. Huge 38DDs pressed flat against the side of the car. Platinum blonde hair spilling around her gorgeous face. Eyes bulging. tongue poking out between her glistening red lips. Stocking-clad leg splayed out across the low temperature mineral pitch. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. lilliputian red G-string wrapped around her ankles.

Dustin had to move fast now. He needed to find Nicole. But it wouldn't be easy. There were more than of these crazy blonde QAnon bitches inside the hall. He would probably have to kill them all to get to Nicole. Might as well begin now.

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her delicious thigh, and hoisted her sybaritic body through the orifice, part way into the rear. She hung there with her upper trunk inside the car, neck opening stretched, headspring bent grass awkwardly, Pt blonde hairsbreadth spreading in wave across the backseat, her upturned ass, long branch, and red spike heels still dangling out the window, rivulets of hot cum dripping down the backs of her shapely thighs and calf, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the sexy G-string dangling from Kaitlin's ankles, rubbed the red panties slowly up and down the backs of her cum-stained legs, then held the thong to his face, savoring the erotic odor of his own cum mixed together with her hot sweat and the expensive torso lotion she'd applied only an hour before her death. He pushed the sticky G-string past Kaitlin's big, red backtalk and into her sensuous mouth, using his fingertips to push the sexy red pantie deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his hands around her slender articulatio talocruralis, pulling her into the car, and laying her moderately fundament and red-painted toes across Ashton's naked thighs, leaving only her big tits, beautiful staring face, and long light-haired hair's-breadth dangling out the door. He slid Lauren's black satin G-string past her toned second joint, curvy calves, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his face, inhaling the erotic aroma of her warm blood mixed with the expensive perfume she'd sprayed on her kitty-cat just 30 minute before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched panties past Lauren's pink lips and into her gaping sassing, using his fingerbreadth to squeeze the Negro satin thong deep down her throat.

Ashton was ok where she was. Bent back over the driver's buns. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade knife. Tits up. Long fuzz hanging into the back. Booted wooden leg draped over the steering wheel. Leather mini bunched around her hips. Dustin pulled the switchblade knife from the seat back, using Sir Frederick Ashton's long head of hair of thick, golden hair to wipe the steel clean. He pulled the knife down across her chest, slicing her hemp top in half to uncover her two magnificent 34DD tits, then carved down through lenient leather and toned thigh to sever the position string section of her sexy smutty leather thong. Gripping the shiny Black triangle covering her pussycat, he pulled up, tearing the panties off her cooling body. Dustin held it high, like a trophy, admiring the glossy calamitous leather, and breathing in the erotic odour of voiced leather soaked and stained with the water of a true Aryan bitch. Dustin wouldn't stuff these panty down Ashton's throat. He would keep them for himself.

Dustin could listen noises now. They were coming. The early blonde from the sign of the zodiac. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would make do with them all. One after another. Then he would find their leader. Madam Nicole.

And the real fun would begin .