“ I'm getting'too old for this shit"thought Dustin Heard as the car traveled into the Hollywood Alfred Hawthorne. He was headed toward Nicole's mansion high up above Los Angeles. Tanned, busty Nicole bower. That big, blonde American gripe. She was goin'down. Permanently. She and all her cute picayune blonde girlfriends.

Nicole Arbour. sapphic madam. 40 yr old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, impregnable. And stacked. Like a brick house. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length thick blonde hair. Bright red lipstick, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude. Neatly trimmed slit. A real, bouncy Amazon queen.

Nicole had been supplying beautiful American blondes to Kayleigh McEnany's escort service. A very lucrative partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the cornet was a big mistake. Kayleigh was abruptly now. purchase order from Donald Jr and Eric. Now it was Nicole's turn of events. Big, beautiful, blond Nicole. She should ingest stuck to whoring on her own. Joining up with Kayleigh really made Donald Jr and Eric very angry. Soon Nicole would be dead meat too. And all those beautiful American blondes. Too bad.

As the car moved through the Benny Hill, twisting and turning around each curvature in the road, Dustin wished he were behind the steering wheel rather than hiding on the floor in the backrest. He was a big guy, and it sure was cramped, but he knew the sonsie cutie driving the car, Ashton Whitty, would soon strain Nicole's property. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many lover. And Ashton had her own set of house keys. Dustin would exact the key from her when they arrived. And he would accept Ashton too. In his own special way.

Then he would experience a courteous tenacious sojourn with Nicole.

Dustin was full at being quiet. And, in many ways, he had enjoyed this car ride through the hills. He was almost dingy it was about to end. It had been fun to break into Ashton's car and hide in the back keister. And then wait. Wait for Sir Frederick Ashton to walk out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her leave of absence her building. She was blonde and leggy. Just like her genus Bos. Only untried. About 25 year old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous face. Full lips. Shimmering blue eyes. Golden blonde hair flowing down to her waist. Tight consistence. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful breasts. Alluring ass. Dressed to kill. Skintight black leather mini. Matching black leather strapless hemp top. Knee-high bootleg leather bang with 4"stiletto cad. She had a very sexy walk. Real slow up. With batch of decent hip action. And her titty looked full in that leather hackamore top. Bouncing and jiggling. She was built. Built substantial nice.

The smell of her exotic perfume had filled the car when she got in. And she let her long blond ringlet fall over the head restraint and into the binding. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the darkness. He played with her voluptuary haircloth a little bit while she drove, running his hands through it, holding it against his face, but she didn't seem to notice. She smelled good. really just. And he could see between the seats. See her tenacious right leg stretched out under the dashboard. Moving back and forth between the gas pedal point and brakes. Pumping the gun. And the pasture brake pedal. Leather miniskirt riding in high spirits up on her thighs. Exposing a beautiful pair of long, shapely peg. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather boots. And she was horny. So very corneous. He could severalise. By the way she kept touching herself with her destitute hand. Squeezing her tits through the Negroid leather halter top. Running her hand up and down her second joint. Slipping her finger's breadth under her short skirt to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.

Suddenly, the car slowed. And turned into a retentive private road. Moving slowly, up a steep hill, towards the front of a big house. It was more like a mansion. illusion. Very fancy. Surrounded by Tree. deep in the Hollywood Alfred Hawthorne. It was time to take the winder from Ashton.

But, before he could make his movement, two trope approached from the movement of the house. Walking towards the car. Two charwoman. Both blonde and beautiful. Just like Sir Frederick Ashton. Dustin looked them over from his hiding stead in the back seat. He already knew them. Two of Nicole's bodyguards…and lovers.

The one on the rightfield. Kaitlin Bennett. Big. She was a big girl. But in a Nice way. A very nice way. She was in her early mid-twenties. glamourous doll cheek. Wide smile. deep aristocratical eyes. Pouty, total lips painted bright cerise red. striking body. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless chest swinging and bouncing as she walked. Thick, wavy, platinum blonde haircloth. Like Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a bright red, elongate lycra, micro minidress with a deep V-neckline, spaghetti shoulder strap, and a plunging open back. So dead that it barely covered her cockeyed buns in back and her red G-string in front man. So nasty that it stretched around her full hips and round ass like shrink-wrap. spinal column seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely legs. Red spike-heeled platform stilettos surrounded her passably fundament. A weighed down orange and bleak atomic number 79 QAnon necklace hung around her neck, falling down between her big tits. Kaitlin. A platinum blond bombshell. Showing lots of deep cleavage. great deal of long, busty leg. And that perfect round ass. Big. Tight. And hot.

And the other girl. The one on the leftfield. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. lately 20. Cute and curvy. Seductive sister case. Sexy smile. Dimpled impertinence. Big green eyes. Honey-colored long blonde hair's-breadth. Glossy pink lipstick. Long gold earrings and glittering gold bracelets. A atomic number 79 QAnon pendant dangling from her pierced navel point. Wearing a glistening blueness metal micro miniskirt, matching down metallic electron tube top, and expensive spike-heeled Black pumps. Her high gear, unfluctuating 36C tit bounced and jiggled as she yanked open the nominal head passenger door, hopped in, and started talking.

"Ashton. Listen Ashton. We've got a problem. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another pitch-black little girl. What was her name ? You know."Stacey Dash ”. The one we picked up the other dark at the club, and brought back here. Remember ? well, Nicole. She hated Stacey right away. Because Stacey was Shirley Temple Black. And because of her body. Stacey looked so good in that white-hot leather catsuit with the slide fastener pulled down, and her big tits falling out, and her big, round ass stretching out the book binding, and those political platform spike hound she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a real hottie. With that body. And that long, thick, curly black hair hanging all the way down her back. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to fuck her first. You know. Before we killed her. She was so tall and sexy. And everybody wanted her.

Nicole didn't like that. She was so overjealous. And, well, Stacey got nosy, you know, about all the QAnon stuff everywhere in the house. And she started making antic about"Indo-European blondes"and"pillock QAnons"and betray like that. And Nicole got real mad as common. Stacey got scared and tried to leave behind, but we wouldn't let her. We kinda had a big scrap. You know. Then we held her down, and stripped off that sexy leather outfit, and tied her up. Well, then Nicole started asking her lots of questions, and Stacey wouldn't answer. 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 post away.

I grabbed Stacey by the pharynx, and Kaitlin held her feet down, and her hands were tied, and she was screaming literal loud and kicking, and all the other girlfriend were just watching and laughing. And Nicole, well, you know, Nicole had a knife 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 break. And we did some tight things to her. You know. Really nasty. We chopped off all her long, thick, grim hair. Nicole's gon na keep it as a memento. And we stuffed her blanched leather thong down her pharynx. You should have seen it. Her eyes were bugged out like big saucers ! And we put lots of different things in her pussy just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went freak. She really did a number on Stacey's ass with that, you know, strap-on matter. And Nicole used her big QAnon branding smoothing iron on Stacey's tits. And I strangled her with my hired hand. And it just seemed to go on forever. And we, you know, killed her. Now we have to get rid of the body ‘ induce it's pretty messed up. And, well, Nicole wants us to use your car. And, well, we have to do it now ‘ cause Nicole's having a big political party tonight. There's already a bunch of really cute American little girl here. They're all blonde and sexy ! And Nicole says we can have any 1 we want !

Nicole says she'll do something special for you if you help us. She knows how randy you are, and how much you like French-kissing ! seminal fluid on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll kiss you long and slow, with bunch of clapper, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my pussy if you want. You know how much I really love it hard in my pussy ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so set up for some hot action tonight. bet at her in that shiny red apparel with all that beautiful platinum hair. God, she's so sexy ! She looks just same Marilyn James Monroe ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather mini ‘ cause it makes your butt look hot ! She really wants you bad tonight. She told me so. But you better watch out out. She'll get you drunk and try to do your ass with her strap-on when you're too pine away to say no ! Just like she did with Stacey. She's a real ass bandit ! Just another dotty QAnon bitch, like Nicole. And all the residuum of us ! So, Ashton, come on. You got ta help us. We need to get rid of the black bitch now. Then we can all go back to the mansion for some fun. Okay ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll assistance you. No problem. It'll be a pleasance. I've always hated those black sluts anyway. They're not warm and blonde and beautiful like us. ass em'! But, first you got ta feed me a kiss. Kinda like a"down defrayal ”. seminal fluid on, Lauren, gim me some spit. Kiss me good, sister. Then we'll dumpsite that Black person whore, and find some new dark-skinned sluts to fuck with. Someone different this time. Not another black bitch. How ‘ bout a cute trivial Filipina female child, or maybe a Mexican chick with gracious big tits ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and grapple out some sober punishment and painful sensation. I just love it when they scream and holler ! Then we'll kill ‘ em just the like Stacey. Nice and slow. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's vote down a couple tonight. I wNicole feel the rush this clock time too ! C'mon, baby. All this talk about killing more cinnamon-colored bitches is makin'me so hot and horny. osculate me. kiss me real good ! We'll make Kaitlin so jealous !"

Sir Frederick Ashton and Lauren leaned together for a oceanic abyss French-kiss, red lipstick mixing with pink gloss as their wet rim came together and their knife began a mystifying and satisfying exploration.

Dustin's core began to pound. He squirmed in the back up backside. He felt set to set off. Tonight's grant 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 reach her for twenty-four hours. 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 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 next to the car. In that red minidress. And those tall political platform heels. With all that platinum blonde falling around her face and shoulder joint. And her big bureau heaving up and down. She was delirious. Waving her weapon system. Pointing. Pointing into the back seat. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Sir Frederick Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite crap it out."Something ”,"somebody ”,"in the back ”. What ?

"What the fuck is she talking about ? Ashton, roll the windows down ”.

Sir Frederick Ashton hit the button and all four windowpane lowered. Kaitlin was screaming.

"There's someone in the spinal column 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 window, he reached outside, plunging his manus down the front of Kaitlin's low-cut red apparel, way down into her deep cleavage. He grabbed one of her yummy 38DD braless tits with his strong compensate hand, squeezing hard, jerking her forward, pulling her head through the open window, before hitting the button again. Before Kaitlin could draw out herself back out, the window came up, closing on her slender neck, pinning her gorgeous brass and platinum blonde ringlet inside the car while her sonsie body 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 drive as she stumbled against the side of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted window. Banging her fists on the glass. Gripping the window with her finger, she pushed frantically against the real property field glass with her hands, trying to break the Fe clench that the window had on her head and neck. Kaitlin's big titmouse spilled from the V-neck of her red minidress, flattening against the dusty window glass. Her turn, firm ass strained inside the unforesightful, tight apparel, big buns wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing step up. Her tongue protruded sexily between her ruby red lips, and her big blue angel eyes widened and bulged as she began to slowly strangle, her brain trapped in the closing window.

"One down, two to go"thought Dustin, as he turned his attention to Ashton and Lauren. But the two blond babe were already making their move. He could see them both. Reaching for something. Ashton's hand was in the car's glove compartment. Lauren's was in her purse. They were pulling out handguns. And turning towards the back seat. Dustin's creative thinker began to race.

"whoreson, an hour ago I thought these American wench were all just a lot of high-class hookers. What's up with all the fucking guns ? And all this QAnon turd ?"

As he finished that mentation, Dustin grabbed a smattering of Ashton's mane of long blonde hair, and yanked knockout, pulling the screaming blond out of her sitting position, and halfway back over the driver's seat. With her head and shoulder now hanging into the backseat, the voluptuous sporting lady 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 riding senior high school up her business firm thigh. Spike-heeled iron boot slamming against the direction bike and windshield as her long stage pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"blade through the posterior of the driver's prat, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blond on the recollective stainless steel steel knife blade. The sword cut through buns framework, glistening leather, soft peel, toned muscular tissue and hard off-white before exploding up into Ashton's big right titty, slicing upward through her succulent tit meat, punching out through her nipple and the forepart of her strapless hempen necktie, leaving a erose hole in the sozzled material of the black leather top, with the flaming knife tip poking up and out. Ashton's big blue optic widened in unbelief, her gaze fixed on the tart blade protruding from her once-perfect tit. Her mouth fell open in a noiseless sidesplitter as roue began to trickle from the corner of her big red sass. Then it began. The wild struggling. The furious flailing of arms. The violent kicking of long, booted legs. And the noise. The squealing noises. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the impaled blonde tried in vain to relinquish herself from the 13"vane that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her pistol towards the back up hind end. Dustin ripped the gun from Ashton's twitching right hand, and shoved the bbl between the place. The simultaneous roaring 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 shattering of chalk behind him as the windowpane exploded.

A near young lady for Dustin, but no such destiny for Lauren.

Two hot biff drilled into Lauren's jiggling right breast, while another torus through the center of her big left hand tit, obliterating her large erect nipple. A fourth bullet ripped spread out her passably navel, shattering the gold QAnon belly piercing, burying itself deep in her taut gut. She gasped and grunted as her consistency flew back, banging hard against the room access, forcing it open. As blood squirted from the three burnt black holes in her shiny gloomy top, trickled across her tight potbelly, and dribbled out of her passably pink back talk, she began to pass backwards out of the scuttle rider door. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her bluish metallic miniskirt up her thighs, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered black satin lash. And a little tattoo. On the interior of her decent thigh. A QAnon. A piffling QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to pull herself back up, she clawed desperately at the passenger behind with her get out hired man while frantically waving her pistol with the right. Trying to straighten up. She had to get off another shaft. She had to. But she was falling out of the car. And she couldn't pull herself back in. The harder she struggled, the farther her oral sex and shoulders slid out the door. Long legs now banquet wide, Lauren's proper foot was caught under the splashboard, while her left foot draped between the seats, ear heeled heart hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the doorway, her right hand banged hard on the edge of the fascia. Lauren lost her grip on the gun, and it clattered to the asphalt, just edge away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin sat back, taking a secondly to enamour his breath. But his spike began to ring. From all the noise. Ashton's shrieking combined with Lauren's groaning and Kaitlin's gurgling was starting to leave him a big fat headache. Time to cook a decision. Let's see.

"Eenie, Meanie, Minie, Moe, catch a QAnon kick by the toe, if she hollers…kill her first."

Ashton. Yes, he would care with Ashton first. It made sense. She was certainly making the most noise. Lauren was only moaning. And Lauren wasn't a scourge anymore. She had lost her gun. And she was hangin'out the door. Gut snap. Tit shooter. And bleeding all over that shiny blue underground 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. Sir Frederick Ashton. Yes, Ashton would be first.

Dustin watched her despairing struggling. Her long light-haired hair's-breadth hung down behind her, draping over the back buttocks, swinging back and forth as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that sexy black leather outfit. Everything was so suddenly and fuddled. Her tall black spike heeled kick banged and crashed against the steering rack and car roof as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those long, shapely stage. Her squiffy leather mini stretched around her firm ass, sliding up and down her prospicient, inflect second joint as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous tits swelled up and out of her leather halter top, the farsighted tongue tip rising like a silver spike heel from the center of her huge right breast.

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

Dustin leaned in ending, whispering in Sir Frederick Ashton's ear as he stroked her prospicient light-haired fuzz with his left script, pawed her leather thong with his right, and used his tongue to slowly lick the dripping parentage from the sharp knife blade that rose out of her breast.

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

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

Dustin continued his osculation of death, keeping his mouth locked over Sir Frederick Ashton's ruby-red rim, pinching her nose shut with his left hand, while using his right wing to research her red-hot writhing body. Sliding his fingertips back and Forth across her categoric tummy. Stroking the social movement of her leather mini. Reaching underneath to fondle and gouge the front end of her glossy leather thong. Exploring the sweetness that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling knocker. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent breasts through the soft sexy leather of her strapless halter top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

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

Dustin gripped the knife handle protruding from the seat, slowly slid the steel out, and then shoved it hard back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the knife out and plunged it back into the hind end. And into Ashton. With each thick thrust, more of the bloody knife tip exploded up and out of her rolling and wobbling breast. Sir Frederick Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her seat each time the sharp vane ripped a jagged new jam in her fast leather hemp top. She rose up one last prison term, arching her backbone, tits driving force upward, eyes wide, legs twitching, moaning loudly, then she fell back. Silent. Unmoving. Dead.

One down, two to go.

Dustin leaned forward. He was sweating. He kissed Sir Frederick Ashton again, thrusting his tongue deep into her wet mouthpiece while running his handwriting through the foresighted mane of thick blonde tomentum hanging to the floor of the back backside. This sure was knockout work. But very live up to nonetheless. And at least it was a piddling quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another fille gurgling. He would grapple with Lauren adjacent. He would economise Kaitlin for last. She really did look just like Marilyn Monroe. He liked that. Besides, Kaitlin was the one who'd harm Stacey the most. He would do her last. And he would enjoy her the most. Beautiful, aphrodisiacal Kaitlin. Platinum blonde Kaitlin. With that skintight red dress. And those long, muscular legs. And those big firm mamilla. And that troll, inviting ass.

Dustin picked up Ashton's gun again, and looked between the front seats at Lauren, still lying on her back, falling part way out the passenger door. One leg under the dashboard below the guidance wheel, the former leg thrust between the seating, her spindle heeled pump almost laying in Dustin's lap. wooden leg spread wide of the mark. blue sky micro mini hiked up to her hips. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut scene. Bullets buried in big, unwavering boob. Shiny blue vacuum tube top stained red. But she was still live. And still trying desperately to retrieve her own gun. The gun that lay on the solid ground outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the seats, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful face and tight, gymnastic trunk. Watching her blue mini rise and Fall on her delectable thigh. Big boob thrust upward. Blonde fuzz hanging out the door. He slid the gun barrel up and down her farsighted right hand leg, tracing the outline of her pointy capitulum blackguard, and the curve of her shapely calf and toned thigh. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from ankle to crotch, rolling the cask back and forth across her QAnon tattoo, poking and probing the front of her sinister satin thong with the still-smoking gun barrel. Slowly pushing the handgun up and underneath her sheeny blueing 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 head. Trying to pick up her weapon. 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, child. Just try a little harder. You're almost there. Come on. adulterate 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 hand. Trying to raise herself up. Trying to point the gun.

"I heard you tell Ashton that you really love it surd in your pussy. well, Ashton can't help you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something knockout for your cunt. Yeah, something tough. And hot. veridical hot. Something that's gon na filling you up. Nice and mysterious. You know. I always aim to please, baby. I aim to please. Sorry sweet cheeks, but your meter is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's leg, sliding his gun up her thigh until it disappeared under her short skirt, rolling the cask in dim roach over the rhinestones that adorned her shiny black satin thong. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an New York minute, an earsplitting roaring echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot slug blew a large hole in the center of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her dead body into the air, throwing her backrest. With arms flailing, legs kicking, and breasts jiggling, she sailed backwards out the doorway, thudding on the terra firma outside the car with only her long branch still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her tight micro miniskirt slid down her thighs, bunching at her hips, exposing her blood-soaked lash, and perforated kitty-cat. Shapely wooden leg rose high school in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her grandiloquent spike-heeled black pumps flew off her twitching feet, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and shiny Au toe rings.

Lauren arched her back, moaning, groaning, rolling her pelvis from side to English. Her battle grew decrepit. She exhaled one live on time. back talk agape. eye wide of the mark. It was over. Two down, one to go. Miss Kaitlin.

Dustin slid across the seat. Face-to-face with Kaitlin. Now bug-eyed and turning blue, she was losing her larger-than-life struggle with the windowpane that ensnared her slender neck. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the answer. A little mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both hands through her thick Pt fuzz. He licked the tip of her bulging natural language, and tasted the cherry flavor of her red lipstick. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her mouth with his tongue. And he let the window 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 room to breathe. The color was starting to get along back into her beautiful face. Good. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much more to do.

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

"You stupid bastard ! Who are you ? Who the screw are you ? You killed Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that pudden-head blackamoor bitch, Stacey ? Are you gaga ? Are you fucking crazy ? Mein Gott ! She was nothing ! nothing ! She was a worthless black whore ! You son of a gripe ! You'll never get away with this ! You'll never get out of here alert ! There are More of us ! Inside ! There are Sir Thomas More of us ! We are all Indo-European and strong ! Not like that whining black slut, Stacey ! We are all blonde and beautiful ! We have guns and we will stop you ! We will come after you ! And kill you ! Nicole will kill you for this ! When I get loose, I will kill you ! I'll killing you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"

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

"Ssshhhh ! Ssshhhh ! repose down, will ya. You got ta learn to cool it down and relax a little bit, baby. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na kill you. Then I'm gon na wipe out all your blonde QAnon girlfriends when they come out to see what's going on. Then I'm gon na defeat Nicole arbour. And you can't stop me. I heard your all in friend Lauren telephone call you ‘ a real ass bandit ’. She said you ‘ really did a telephone number on Stacey's ass ’. Stacey was my devotee. 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 small experiment. You'll have to let me know if I'm on the right running. prevail on. let off me for a mo. I think I hear someone at the book binding doorway. Your back door. And a sweet back door it is. I'll meet you there in just a minute !"

Dustin exited the car and walked to the side where Kaitlin stood struggling, head through the window. He stroked his tool to full hardness as he watched her wiggle, squirm, yell and curse. Kaitlin's big tits shook and wobbled inside the sloshed V-neck of her low-cut frock as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her fists on the pertinacious glass. The glossy red lycra micro minidress clung to her curvaceous body like a moment skin, cut spaghetti straps draping across her shoulders, exposed back plunging down to the crack of her ass, skintight red lycra cloth stretching around her entire coxa, barely covering her beat, firm nates. Her long, lean, well-muscled legs 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 inch of her silken, supple legs, the long, dark back line traveling up the cover of her sura and thighs like an titillating highway, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his hands down her naked back and over her glistening stretch lycra minidress, following the curvature of her articulatio coxae, over her monotonic pot, up across her bureau, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD rack, back down across her cut back waist, under her dress, to her red G-string, stroking, and stroking, and stroking with his hands, caressing her sleek stockings, running his fingertips up and down her curvey legs, squeezing her calves, then moving senior high school up her thighs, to his final destination, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the tightness of her big, round buns through the slick lycra material of her skintight red attire. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the dorsum of her tight mini…and saw the little QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big backside cheeks.

"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, idle, QAnon cunt girlfriends. Sorry, they can't supporter you. Nicole can't help you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get ready, you big, beautiful, bootylicious, blonde beef. 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 ghost me ! Get your dirty work force off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare tinge me ! I'll kill you ! I'll kill you ! Nicole will kill you ! She would never let anything happen to me ! I'm her buff ! Her lover ! You can't do this ! Nicole ! Nicole ! assistance ! help oneself 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 booty from behind, plunging his Brobdingnagian turncock trench 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 Aryan ass for the very first time. He picked up the step. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and mystifying. Pumping her ample and curvaceous tush hard from behind as he pulled back on the heavyset gold chain of her gleaming QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust hard, inscrutable into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky cowboy, pounding her odorous cheeks as she bucked and rolled, her foreland spin and neck opening stretching, trapped by the shut down window and strangled by her own heavy QAnon necklace. Writhing. Squirming. Thrashing. Gurgling. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing.

Dustin slid his hands to Kaitlin's curvaceous hips and pulled her back. Putting his full weighting behind each drive, he pounded her beautiful round buns with yearn full stroke, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, midst shaft. Her gorgeous bubble fundament wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his crotch as he continued his steady, mystifying stroking. Kaitlin's dramatic tits rolled and wobbled, swinging from side to side as Dustin continued his erotic onrush, grinding his 10"hammer in and out of her compressed ass like a red hot piston. The once proud and chesty platinum blonde QAnon bombshell wailed and squealed with each knock-down driving force, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled platform sandals, curvy leg brawn tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his huge cock up to the hilt in her delicious ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. Stroke after stroke after virgule after shot after stroke after stroke after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could palpate it. Rising up like a volcano. make 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 crack cocaine. She shuddered and jerked, twitching wildly, groaning loudly one finis clip, then went limp. Still hanging from the windowpane. sleeve at her sides. Huge 38DDs pressed monotone against the side of the car. Platinum blonde hair spilling around her gorgeous aspect. eyes bulging. Tongue poking out between her slick magazine red lip. Stocking-clad legs splayed out across the cold mineral pitch. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. petite red thong wrapped around her ankles.

Dustin had to move fast now. He needed to find Nicole. But it wouldn't be prosperous. There were Thomas More of these crazy blond QAnon bitches inside the mansion. He would probably get to obliterate them all to get to Nicole. Might as well bulge now.

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her luscious thighs, and hoisted her well-endowed body through the opening, character way into the binding. She hung there with her amphetamine dead body inside the car, neck stretched, headland bent awkwardly, Pt blonde hair spreading in waves across the backseat, her upset ass, long peg, and red spindle heels still dangling out the window, rivulets of hot cum dripping down the backs of her shapely second joint and calves, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the aphrodisiac G-string dangling from Kaitlin's ankles, rubbed the red panties slowly up and down the backs of her cum-stained peg, then held the thong to his face, savoring the erotic aroma of his own cum desegregate together with her hot travail and the expensive body application she'd applied only an time of day before her end. He pushed the sticky G-string past Kaitlin's big, red lips and into her sensuous oral cavity, using his fingertips to push the sexy red pantie deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his hired hand around her slender ankle, pulling her into the car, and laying her pretty feet and red-painted toes across Ashton's naked thighs, leaving only her big tits, beautiful staring font, and long blonde haircloth dangling out the door. He slid Lauren's black satin thong past her toned thigh, curvy calves, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his face, inhaling the erotic aroma of her warm blood coalesce with the expensive perfume she'd sprayed on her snatch just 30 minutes before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched scanty past Lauren's pink lips and into her gaping mouth, using his fingers to ram the black satin thong deep down her throat.

Ashton was exquisitely where she was. Bent back over the driver's ass. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade tongue. Tits up. Long hair hanging into the back. Booted legs draped over the steering roulette wheel. Leather miniskirt bunched around her hips. Dustin pulled the switchblade from the rear back, using Sir Frederick Ashton's long mane of thick, golden hair to wipe the blade clean. He pulled the knife down across her chest, slicing her halter top in one-half to expose her two splendid 34DD nipple, then carved down through indulgent leather and toned thigh to sever the English strings of her sexy black leather thong. Gripping the burnished black trilateral covering her pussy, he pulled up, tearing the panties off her cooling eubstance. Dustin held it high, like a trophy, admiring the glossy black leather, and breathing in the titillating odour of diffuse leather soaked and stained with the pee of a avowedly Aryan squawk. Dustin wouldn't stuff these step-in down Ashton's throat. He would keep open them for himself.

Dustin could hear haphazardness now. They were coming. The former blonde from the sign. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would manage with them all. One after another. Then he would encounter their leader. Madam Nicole.

And the real fun would begin .