“ I'm getting'too old for this mother fucker"thought Dustin Heard as the car traveled into the Hollywood J. J. Hill. He was headed toward Nicole's star sign high gear above Los Angeles. Tanned, busty Nicole bower. That big, blonde American beef. She was goin'down. Permanently. She and all her cute little blonde girlfriends.

Nicole Arbour. Lesbian ma'am. 40 class old, 5'10"tall, leggy, gymnastic, inviolable. And stacked. Like a brick house. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length chummy blond hairsbreadth. Bright red lip rouge, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude. Neatly trimmed pussycat. A really, live Amazon queen.

Nicole had been supplying beautiful American language blonde to Kayleigh McEnany's accompaniment service of process. A very lucrative partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the Trump was a big mistake. Kayleigh was absolutely now. orderliness from Donald Jr and Eric. Now it was Nicole's turn. Big, beautiful, blonde Nicole. She should make stuck to whoring on her own. Joining up with Kayleigh really made Donald Jr and Eric very angry. Soon Nicole would be stagnant substance too. And all those beautiful American blond. Too bad.

As the car moved through the James Jerome Hill, twisting and turning around each curve in the road, Dustin wished he were behind the steering wheel rather than hiding on the storey in the back. He was a big guy, and it sure was cramped, but he knew the curvaceous cutie driving the car, Sir Frederick Ashton Whitty, would soon strain Nicole's place. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many lovers. And Sir Frederick Ashton had her own set of house keys. Dustin would take the samara from her when they arrived. And he would acquire Sir Frederick Ashton too. In his own special way.

Then he would have a nice long visit with Nicole.

Dustin was beneficial at being quiet. And, in many ways, he had enjoyed this car ride through the hills. He was almost sorry it was about to end. It had been fun to break into Ashton's car and fell in the support seat. And then postponement. Wait for Ashton to walk out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her leave of absence her building. She was blond and leggy. Just like her boss. Only untried. About 25 year old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous font. full lips. Shimmering dingy eyes. Golden blonde hair flowing down to her waistline. Tight physical structure. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful breasts. Alluring ass. Dressed to kill. Skintight black leather miniskirt. Matching blackened leather strapless balancer top. Knee-high black leather boots with 4"stiletto heel. She had a very sexy pass. really slow. With luck of nice hip action mechanism. And her tits looked soundly in that leather hangman's rope top. Bouncing and jiggling. She was built. Built veridical nice.

The smell of her exotic perfume had filled the car when she got in. And she let her long blonde lock chamber fall over the headrest and into the back. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the darkness. He played with her exuberant hair a little bit while she drove, running his handwriting through it, holding it against his face, but she didn't seem to notice. She smelled good. Real good. And he could see between the seats. See her retentive right leg stretched out under the dashboard. Moving back and Forth between the gas pedal and brakes. Pumping the accelerator. And the bracken foot pedal. Leather miniskirt riding high-pitched up on her thighs. Exposing a beautiful pair of long, shapely leg. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather kick. And she was horny. So very horny. He could narrate. By the way she kept touching herself with her discharge hand. Squeezing her tits through the black leather halter top. Running her hired hand up and down her second joint. Slipping her fingerbreadth under her short bird to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.

Suddenly, the car slowed. And turned into a yearn private road. Moving slowly, up a steep Benny Hill, towards the front of a big sign. It was more like a mansion. fancy. Very go for. Surrounded by trees. Deep in the Hollywood mound. It was clock time to take the keys from Ashton.

But, before he could make his move, two frame approached from the front of the mansion. Walking towards the car. Two women. Both blonde and beautiful. Just like Sir Frederick Ashton. Dustin looked them over from his hiding place in the backrest place. He already knew them. Two of Nicole's bodyguards…and lovers.

The one on the right hand. Kaitlin Bennett. Big. She was a big miss. But in a nice way. A very decent way. She was in her early twenties. glamourous doll human face. Wide grin. trench blue optic. Pouty, full sassing painted brightly cherry red. dramatic eubstance. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless breasts swinging and bouncing as she walked. thick, wavy, platinum blonde hair. Like Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a undimmed red, stretch lycra, micro minidress with a deep V-neckline, spaghetti straps, and a plunging overt back. So dead that it barely covered her tight buns in back and her red G-string in front. So soaked that it stretched around her full coxa and orotund ass like shrink-wrap. Back seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely stage. Red spike-heeled platform stilettos surrounded her somewhat feet. A heavy orange and bootleg Au QAnon necklace hung around her cervix, falling down between her big tits. Kaitlin. A platinum blond thunderbolt. Showing lots of bass cleavage. Plenty of long, sonsy leg. And that unadulterated round of golf ass. Big. Tight. And hot.

And the other girl. The one on the left. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. Late twenties. Cute and curvy. Seductive baby case. Sexy grinning. Dimpled boldness. Big green eyes. Honey-colored long blonde hair's-breadth. Glossy pink lipstick. Long gold earrings and glittering amber bangle. A gold QAnon chandelier dangling from her punctured navel. Wearing a shiny puritanical metallic micro miniskirt, matching downhearted metallic subway top, and expensive spike-heeled fateful pumps. Her senior high, immobile 36C tits bounced and jiggled as she yanked open the front passenger doorway, hopped in, and started talking.

"Ashton. Listen Sir Frederick Ashton. We've got a problem. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another black girl. What was her public figure ? You know."Stacey flair ”. The one we picked up the other nighttime at the club, and brought back here. Remember ? fountainhead, Nicole. She hated Stacey right away. Because Stacey was black. And because of her body. Stacey looked so secure in that white leather catsuit with the slide fastener pulled down, and her big teat falling out, and her big, round ass stretching out the cover, and those platform spike dog she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a existent hottie. With that dead body. And that long, thick, curly mordant hair's-breadth hanging all the way down her back. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to fuck her for the first time. You know. Before we killed her. She was so marvellous and sexy. 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 trick about"Aryan blondes"and"Stupid QAnons"and crap 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 fight. You know. Then we held her down, and stripped off that sexy leather turnout, and tied her up. Well, then Nicole started asking her lots of dubiousness, and Stacey wouldn't result. 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 human foot down, and her hands were tied, and she was screaming very loud and kicking, and all the other daughter 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 stop. And we did some nasty things to her. You know. Really filthy. We chopped off all her retentive, thick, black haircloth. Nicole's gon na keep it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her white leather thong down her pharynx. You should have seen it. Her oculus were bugged out like big dish antenna ! And we put lots of different things in her kitty just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went ball. She really did a number on Stacey's ass with that, you know, strap-on thing. And Nicole used her big QAnon stigmatisation iron on Stacey's tits. 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 physical structure ‘ cause 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 party tonight. There's already a bunch of really precious American miss here. They're all blond and sexy ! And Nicole says we can birth any ones we want !

Nicole says she'll do something especial for you if you help us. She knows how randy you are, and how much you like French-kissing ! cum on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll kiss you long and slow, with lots of spit, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my cunt if you want. You know how much I really love it difficult in my kitty ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so ready for some hot action tonight. Look at her in that bright red dress with all that beautiful platinum whisker. God, she's so sexy ! She looks just like Marilyn Monroe ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather miniskirt ‘ causal agency it makes your butt flavour hot ! She really wants you bad tonight. She told me so. But you better learn out. She'll get you drunk and try to do your ass with her strap-on when you're too wasted to say no ! Just like she did with Stacey. She's a real ass bandit ! Just another disturbed QAnon bitch, like Nicole. And all the rest of us ! So, Sir Frederick Ashton, add up on. You got ta help us. We need to get rid of the black squawk now. Then we can all go back to the residence for some fun. Okay ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll aid you. No problem. It'll be a pleasure. I've always hated those black sluts anyway. They're not firm and blonde and beautiful like us. Fuck em'! But, first you got ta turn over me a osculation. Kinda like a"down defrayment ”. Come on, Lauren, gim me some spit. buss me well, baby. Then we'll dumpsite that nigrify working girl, and recover some new dusky sluts to fuck with. Someone different this clip. Not another Black person beef. How ‘ bout a cute little Filipina miss, or maybe a Mexican chick with squeamish big tits ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and deal out some grievous penalisation and pain. I just love it when they scream and roar ! Then we'll kill ‘ em just like Stacey. Nice and slacken. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's pop a couplet tonight. I wNicole feel the Rush this metre too ! C'mon, baby. All this talk about killing Sir Thomas More cinnamon-colored gripe is makin'me so hot and horny. Kiss me. Kiss me substantial good ! We'll make Kaitlin so jealous !"

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

Dustin's heart began to pound. He squirmed in the dorsum can. He felt ready to explode. Tonight's assigning 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 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 blonde gripe, Ashton, Lauren, and Kaitlin. They would pay too. Who would have thought ? They were all QAnons ! Every one of them !

Suddenly, Kaitlin appeared adjacent to the car. In that red minidress. And those magniloquent platform dog. With all that platinum 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 back hind end. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite make it out."Something ”,"someone ”,"in the backwards ”. What ?

"What the screw is she talking about ? Sir Frederick Ashton, roll the windows down ”.

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

"There's somebody in the book binding 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 bridge player down the front of Kaitlin's low-necked red wearing apparel, way down into her deep cleavage. He grabbed one of her luscious 38DD braless tits with his strong right hired hand, squeezing tough, jerking her forward, pulling her head through the open window, before hitting the clit again. Before Kaitlin could tear herself back out, the window came up, closing on her slender cervix, pinning her gorgeous face and platinum blond Robert Floyd Curl Jr. inside the car while her voluptuous 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 driveway as she stumbled against the side of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted windowpane. Banging her fists on the drinking glass. Gripping the window with her digit, she pushed frantically against the real property Methedrine with her hands, trying to cave in the smoothing iron suitcase that the window had on her oral sex and neck. Kaitlin's big tits spilled from the V-neck of her red minidress, flattening against the common cold window glass. Her rung, house ass strained inside the short, stringent apparel, big buns wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing intensified. Her natural language protruded sexily between her ruby red lips, and her big blue oculus widened and bulged as she began to slowly strangle, her head trapped in the close window.

"One down, two to go"view Dustin, as he turned his attention to Sir Frederick Ashton and Lauren. But the two blonde babes were already making their move. He could see them both. Reaching for something. Sir Frederick Ashton's hand was in the car's glove compartment. Lauren's was in her purse. They were pulling out handgun. And turning towards the back fundament. Dustin's head began to race.

"Shit, an minute ago I thought these American skirt were all just a bunch of high-class floozy. What's up with all the fucking guns ? And all this QAnon crap ?"

As he finished that thought, Dustin grabbed a handful of Ashton's head of hair of long blonde hair, and yanked hard, pulling the screaming blonde out of her sitting military position, and halfway back over the driver's seat. With her head and berm now hanging into the backseat, the luscious whore continued screaming. And screaming. And screaming. Waving her gun in the air, trying to get off a stroke. Big titmouse bursting from her hemp top. Leather mini riding in high spirits up her firm second joint. Spike-heeled iron heel slamming against the steering steering wheel and windshield as her long ramification pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped spread out his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"brand through the rear of the driver's seat, and into Sir Frederick Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blonde on the recollective stainless steel blade knife blade. The blade cut through seat fabric, shiny leather, indulgent skin, toned muscle and hard ivory before exploding up into Ashton's big right field bosom, slicing upward through her succulent tit core, punching out through her nipple and the front of her strapless halter, leaving a toothed hole in the mingy textile of the dark leather top, with the bloody knife tip poking up and out. Ashton's big blue optic widened in disbelief, her gaze fixed on the acute blade protruding from her once-perfect chest. Her lip fell undefendable in a noiseless scream as blood began to filter from the nook of her big red lips. Then it began. The wild struggling. The savage flailing of coat of arms. The tearing kicking of long, booted ramification. And the randomness. The squealing stochasticity. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the impaled blonde tried in vain to resign herself from the 13"steel that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her pistol towards the book binding hind end. Dustin ripped the gun from Ashton's twitching right hand, and shoved the barrel between the seats. The simultaneous roar of two handgun filled the air with a deafening haphazardness. Dustin felt the hot breathing space of Lauren's smoke whizzing past his ear, and heard the shattering of glass behind him as the window exploded.

A near girl for Dustin, but no such luck for Lauren.

Two hot punch drilled into Lauren's jiggling right breast, while another tore through the center of her big left wing tit, obliterating her boastfully erect nipple. A fourth hummer ripped spread out her pretty navel, shattering the gold QAnon belly piercing, burying itself deep in her stiff 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 total darkness trap in her glossy blue top, trickled across her tight potbelly, and dribbled out of her pretty tap lip, she began to return backwards out of the possibility rider door. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her disconsolate metallic miniskirt up her second joint, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered black satin flip-flop. And a slight tattoo. On the interior of her right thigh. A QAnon. A little QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to attract herself back up, she clawed desperately at the passenger seat with her leave hand while frantically waving her pistol with the right. Trying to tidy up. She had to get off another shot. She had to. But she was falling out of the car. And she couldn't pull herself back in. The harder she struggled, the further her head and shoulder joint slid out the door. hanker legs now outspread wide, Lauren's right pes was caught under the dashboard, while her result foot draped between the buttocks, spike heel heeled heart hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the door, her right bridge player banged hard on the sharpness of the fascia. Lauren lost her grip on the gun, and it clattered to the asphalt, just inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin sat back, taking a second base 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 headache. clock time to work a decisiveness. Let's see.

"Eenie, meany, Minie, Moe, charm a QAnon beef by the toe, if she hollers…kill her first."

Ashton. Yes, he would deal with Ashton first. It made sense. She was certainly making the most noise. Lauren was only moaning. And Lauren wasn't a menace anymore. She had lost her gun. And she was hangin'out the door. Gut shot. Tit shot. 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 blonde tomentum hung down behind her, draping over the back hindquarters, 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 cockeyed. Her tall black spike heeled kick banged and crashed against the steering wheel and car ceiling as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those long, shapely peg. Her tight leather mini stretched around her firm ass, sliding up and down her long, modulate thighs as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous breast swelled up and out of her leather halter top, the long knife tip rising like a silver gray spike from the kernel of her vast in good order breast.

Then he saw it. The tattoo. A niggling QAnon. Just like Lauren's. high school on the inside of her left thigh. Right next to the black leather flip-flop that barely covered her neatly trimmed pussy. He wondered if Kaitlin had one too. A tattoo…and a thong…and a cute snatch. He would find out soon enough.

Dustin leaned in close, whispering in Ashton's ear as he stroked her long blond hair with his provide manus, pawed her leather thong with his rightfield, and used his knife to slowly lick the dripping parentage from the sharp tongue brand that rose out of her breast.

"I heard your booster Lauren say you like"French-kissing, long and retard ”. You want some now ? Lem me read 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 killer. I guarantee it."

Dustin began slowly licking Ashton's red sass, then pinched her nostrils together just before placing his mouth over hers. The talented Italian hitman locked his lips around hers, forcing his lingua 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 round as she struggled frantically for air. Her long hairsbreadth swung back and forth behind her as she bucked and rolled in the rear, clawing at Dustin with her red-painted fingernails as he kissed her deeply…and kept her from breathing.

Dustin continued his kiss of destruction, keeping his mouth locked over Ashton's crimson backtalk, pinching her nuzzle shut with his left hand, while using his right hand to explore her red-hot writhing trunk. Sliding his fingertips back and forth across her flat pot. Stroking the front end of her leather mini. Reaching underneath to fondle and coerce the straw man of her glossy leather thong. Exploring the sweetness that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling knocker. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent titty through the soft sexy leather of her strapless halter top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

"okay, sister. Get ready. Here it comes. This one's for Stacey ”.

Dustin gripped the tongue 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 seat. And into Ashton. With each deep jabbing, Thomas More of the bloody knife tip exploded up and out of her rolling and wobbling bosom. Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her hindquarters each clip the acuate blade ripped a jagged new mess in her sloshed leather halter top. She rose up one cobbler's last metre, arching her backbone, tits thrust 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 Ashton again, thrusting his lingua deep into her wet backtalk while running his manus through the long mane of thickset blonde hair hanging to the story of the gage seat. This sure was hard work. But very fulfil nonetheless. And at to the lowest degree it was a little quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another female child gurgling. He would look at with Lauren following. He would salvage Kaitlin for final stage. 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 last. And he would enjoy her the most. Beautiful, sexy Kaitlin. platinum blonde Kaitlin. With that skintight red apparel. And those long, muscular branch. And those big business firm tits. And that round, inviting ass.

Dustin picked up Ashton's gun again, and looked between the front end bum at Lauren, still lying on her back, falling part way out the passenger room access. One leg under the dashboard below the steering wheel, the early leg poke between the seats, her spike heel heeled ticker almost laying in Dustin's lap. Legs spread wide. Blue micro miniskirt hiked up to her hips. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut shot. slug buried in big, loyal titmouse. Shiny blue tube top stained red. But she was still active. And still trying desperately to retrieve her own gun. The gun that lay on the ground outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the tail, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful face and mingy, athletic dead body. Watching her blue miniskirt rise and gloaming on her luscious thighs. Big tits thrust upward. blonde pilus hanging out the door. He slid the gun barrel up and down her foresighted in good order leg, tracing the scheme of her pointy spike hound, and the breaking ball of her shapely calf and toned thigh. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from ankle to crotch, rolling the barrel back and forth across her QAnon tattoo, poking and probing the front line of her total darkness satin thong with the still-smoking barrel. Slowly pushing the handgun up and underneath her bright blue sky 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 arm. 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, sister. Just try a little harder. You're almost there. hail on. Stretch it out. You're almost there. Come on. Just a footling bit more. There. That's it. You've got it !"

Dustin watched her grip the gun with her right field hired hand. Trying to raise herself up. Trying to point the gun.

"I heard you tell Ashton that you really have intercourse it hard in your kitty. Well, Ashton can't help you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something hard for your kitty. Yeah, something hard. And hot. real number hot. Something that's gon na fill you up. Nice and deep. You know. I always aim to please, baby. I aim to please. Sorry sweet cheeks, but your time is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's ramification, sliding his gun up her thigh until it disappeared under her abruptly dame, rolling the gun barrel in slow traffic circle over the rhinestones that adorned her shiny black satin flip-flop. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an instant, an earsplitting roar echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot slug blew a large golf hole in the centre of attention of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her organic structure into the air, throwing her binding. With limb flailing, pegleg kicking, and breasts jiggling, she sailed backwards out the doorway, thudding on the ground outside the car with only her longsighted legs still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her soused micro miniskirt slid down her thigh, bunching at her hip, exposing her blood-soaked flip-flop, and perforated pussy. Shapely legs rose high in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her tall spike-heeled black pump flew off her twitching understructure, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and shiny gold toe rings.

Lauren arched her back, moaning, groaning, rolling her hips from side to side. Her struggles grew weaker. She exhaled one last metre. Mouth agape. Eyes wide. 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 epical engagement with the window that ensnared her slender neck. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the response. A little mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both hands through her thick Pt hair. He licked the tip of her bulging tongue, and tasted the cherry savour of her red lipstick. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her mouth with his natural language. 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 cervix. Giving her a short room to suspire. The color was starting to get along back into her beautiful face. skillful. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much more to do.

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

"You pudden-head bastard ! Who are you ? Who the fuck are you ? You killed Sir Frederick Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that stupid black-market bitch, Stacey ? Are you dotty ? Are you fucking crazy ? Mein Gott ! She was cipher ! Nothing ! She was a worthless pitch-black whore ! You son of a bitch ! You'll never get away with this ! You'll never get out of here animated ! There are More of us ! Inside ! There are more of us ! We are all Aryan and impregnable ! Not like that whining inglorious trollop, Stacey ! We are all blonde and beautiful ! We have guns and we will stop you ! We will get after you ! And kill you ! Nicole will stamp out you for this ! When I get escaped, I will down you ! I'll kill you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"

Dustin gripped her header again, stroking his fingers through her thick atomic number 78 hair. He leaned in ending for another deep French-kiss. She squealed and struggled for a moment, but then relaxed as he probed her big, red sass and warm, wet back talk with his tongue once again. Then he pulled back.

"Ssshhhh ! Ssshhhh ! repose down, will ya. You got ta learn to steady down and unwind a fiddling bit, baby. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na kill you. Then I'm gon na vote down all your blonde QAnon girlfriends when they come out to see what's going on. Then I'm gon na kill Nicole Arbour. And you can't stop me. I heard your beat friend Lauren call you ‘ a real ass bandit ’. She said you ‘ really did a 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 picayune experimentation. You'll have to let me know if I'm on the right track. retain on. explain me for a minute. I think I hear someone at the backward door. Your support door. And a unfermented back door it is. I'll sports meeting you there in just a minute !"

Dustin exited the car and walked to the incline where Kaitlin stood struggling, head through the window. He stroked his putz to entire callousness as he watched her wriggle, wriggle, yell and bane. Kaitlin's big mamilla shook and wobbled inside the tight V-neck of her low-cut dress as she frantically pushed and pulled at the windowpane, banging her clenched fist on the unyielding glassful. The shiny red lycra micro minidress clung to her curvaceous body like a indorsement skin, flimsy spaghetti shoulder strap draping across her shoulders, open back plunging down to the quip of her ass, skintight red lycra cloth stretching around her total articulatio coxae, barely covering her unit of ammunition, firm tush. Her long, leaning, well-muscled peg 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 sleek, supple legs, the long, dark back seam traveling up the backs of her sura and thighs like an erotic highway, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his hands down her au naturel back and over her shiny stint lycra minidress, following the curve of her coxa, over her flat tummy, up across her chest, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD rack, back down across her cut waist, under her dress, to her red G-string, stroke, and stroke, and stroking with his helping hand, caressing her sleek stockings, running his fingertips up and down her curvy legs, squeezing her calves, then moving high up her thighs, to his final destination, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the compactness of her big, turn buttocks through the wily lycra fabric of her skintight red dress. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the rear of her sloshed mini…and saw the little QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big butt cheeks.

"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, dead, QAnon squawk girlfriend. Sorry, they can't assistance you. Nicole can't help you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get prepare, you big, beautiful, bootylicious, blond 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 tactual sensation me ! Get your dirty hands off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare touch me ! I'll putting to death you ! I'll kill you ! Nicole will bolt down you ! She would never let anything hap to me ! I'm her devotee ! Her fan ! You can't do this ! Nicole ! Nicole ! Help ! help oneself me ! Nicole ! Nicole ! No ! Noooooooo ! Nooooooooooooo ! Nicole ! Nicoleaaauuuuuhhhhhh ! Annnnaaaaauuuuuuhhhhhhh ! Oh mein gaauuuggghhhhtt ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !

Kaitlin shrieked like a banshee, howling Nicole's public figure as Dustin mounted her big, round down booty from behind, plunging his Brobdingnagian pecker deep into her hot, juicy ass, up to the hilt. Kaitlin's high squeals echoed inside the car as Dustin poking hard and mystifying, plowing her creamy Aryan ass for the very first fourth dimension. He picked up the pace. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. Pumping her ample and bosomy buttocks hard from behind as he pulled back on the stocky gold chemical chain of her gleaming QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust arduous, mystifying into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky cowboy, pounding her seraphic cheeks as she bucked and rolled, her chief twist and cervix stretching, trapped by the come together window and strangled by her own punishing 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 curvy hip and pulled her backrest. Putting his broad weight behind each knife thrust, he pounded her beautiful round fanny with long full slash, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, stocky lance. Her gorgeous bubble butt wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his crotch as he continued his stabilize, deep stroke. Kaitlin's spectacular knocker rolled and wobbled, swinging from side to side as Dustin continued his erotic onset, grinding his 10"hammer in and out of her tight ass like a red hot piston. The once proud and arrogant platinum blonde QAnon thunderbolt wailed and squealed with each powerful thrust, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled weapons platform sandals, voluptuous leg musculus tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his vast cock up to the hilt in her delicious ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. solidus after stroke after stroke after cerebrovascular accident after shot after stroke after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could feel it. Rising up like a volcano. fix to erupt. He pumped her hard. Harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. As he exploded into Kaitlin's keen ass, Dustin heard her neck crack. She shuddered and jerked, twitching wildly, groaning loudly one finale time, then went limp. Still hanging from the window. subdivision at her sides. Huge 38DDs pressed flat against the position of the car. Platinum blonde hair spilling around her gorgeous human face. centre bulging. natural language poking out between her glossy red back talk. Stocking-clad stage splayed out across the cold mineral pitch. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. Tiny red G-string wrapped around her ankles.

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

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her scrumptious thighs, and hoisted her voluptuous body through the opening, part way into the dorsum. She hung there with her upper organic structure inside the car, neck stretched, head bent awkwardly, Pt blonde fuzz spreading in waving across the backseat, her upturned ass, long legs, and red spike heels still dangling out the window, rivulets of hot cum dripping down the backs of her shapely thighs and calves, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the sexy thong suspension from Kaitlin's mortise joint, rubbed the red panty slowly up and down the spinal column of her cum-stained legs, then held the G-string to his face, savoring the titillating aroma of his own cum ruffle together with her hot swither and the expensive body lotion she'd applied only an hour before her Death. He pushed the gluey G-string past Kaitlin's big, red lips and into her sensuous mouth, using his fingertips to drive the sexy red step-in deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his work force around her slender ankles, pulling her into the car, and laying her fairly pes and red-painted toes across Sir Frederick Ashton's naked second joint, leaving only her big pap, beautiful staring grimace, and long light-haired hair dangling out the door. He slid Lauren's black satin lash past her toned thigh, curvey calves, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his facial expression, inhaling the erotic fragrance of her warmly line of descent mixed with the expensive aroma she'd sprayed on her kitty-cat just 30 minutes before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched panties past Lauren's pinko lips and into her gaping back talk, using his fingers to force the total darkness satin flip-flop deep down her throat.

Ashton was all right where she was. Bent back over the driver's seat. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade tongue. Tits up. Long hair hanging into the back. Booted legs draped over the steering wheel. Leather miniskirt bunched around her hips. Dustin pulled the switchblade from the keister back, using Ashton's long mane of thick, favorable tomentum to pass over the steel clean. He pulled the knife down across her chest, slicing her halter top in half to expose her two glorious 34DD tits, then carved down through diffused leather and toned thigh to sever the English strings of her sexy shameful leather thong. Gripping the bright blacken triangle covering her slit, he pulled up, tearing the panties off her chilling body. Dustin held it gamey, like a trophy, admiring the glossy nigrify leather, and breathing in the erotic olfactory property of mild leather soaked and stained with the urine of a true Aryan gripe. Dustin wouldn't stuff these panties down Ashton's throat. He would keep them for himself.

Dustin could hear noises now. They were coming. The other blonde from the star sign. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would shell out with them all. One after another. Then he would obtain their leader. dame Nicole.

And the real number fun would set out .