“ I'm getting'too old for this defecate"thought Dustin Heard as the car traveled into the Hollywood mound. He was headed toward Nicole's manse high above Los Angeles. Tanned, busty Nicole arbour. That big, blonde American English bitch. She was goin'down. Permanently. She and all her cute slight light-haired girlfriends.

Nicole Arbour. Lesbian madam. 40 eld old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, unassailable. And stacked. Like a brick family. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length thick blonde hair. Bright red lip rouge, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude. Neatly trimmed kitty. A very, resilient Amazon queen.

Nicole had been supplying beautiful American English blonde to Kayleigh McEnany's date armed service. A very moneymaking partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the trump card was a big misunderstanding. Kayleigh was dead now. Orders from Donald Jr and Eric. Now it was Nicole's tour. Big, beautiful, blonde Nicole. She should cause stuck to whoring on her own. Joining up with Kayleigh really made Donald Jr and Eric very angry. Soon Nicole would be beat substance too. And all those beautiful American blondes. Too bad.

As the car moved through the pitcher's mound, twisting and turning around each bend in the road, Dustin wished he were behind the rack rather than hiding on the floor in the back. He was a big guy, and it sure was cramped, but he knew the buxom cutie driving the car, Ashton Whitty, would soon achieve Nicole's place. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many lovers. And Ashton had her own set of house Florida key. Dustin would shoot the keys from her when they arrived. And he would take Sir Frederick Ashton too. In his own limited way.

Then he would have a nice retentive visit with Nicole.

Dustin was good at being quiet. And, in many way of life, he had enjoyed this car drive through the pitcher's mound. He was almost sorry it was about to end. It had been fun to kick downstairs into Sir Frederick Ashton's car and hide in the back seat. And then wait. Wait for Ashton to walk out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her farewell her building. She was blonde and leggy. Just like her Bos. Only jr.. About 25 eld old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous expression. Full lips. Shimmering blue eyes. Golden blonde hair flowing down to her shank. Tight body. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful white meat. Alluring ass. Dressed to kill. Skintight black leather miniskirt. Matching blackamoor leather strapless hangman's rope top. knee-hi black leather boots with 4"stiletto bounder. She had a very sexy walk. real slow. With mint of nice hip action. And her mammilla looked good in that leather hangman's halter top. bounce and jiggling. She was built. Built real nice.

The look of her exotic perfume had filled the car when she got in. And she let her yearn blonde ringlet fall over the head restraint and into the back. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the darkness. He played with her luxuriant hair a little bit while she drove, running his hands through it, holding it against his nerve, but she didn't seem to poster. She smelled well. Real good. And he could see between the seating area. See her farseeing redress leg stretched out under the dashboard. Moving back and forth between the gas pedal and brakes. Pumping the accelerator. And the brake pedal. Leather mini riding high up on her second joint. Exposing a beautiful couple of long, shapely peg. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather boot. And she was horny. So very hornlike. He could tell. By the way she kept touching herself with her free people hand. Squeezing her titty through the shameful leather halter top. Running her hand up and down her thigh. Slipping her finger's breadth under her short annulus to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.

Suddenly, the car slowed. And turned into a long driveway. Moving slowly, up a steep hill, towards the front of a big household. It was more like a mansion house. partiality. Very go for. Surrounded by Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. deep in the Hollywood Benny Hill. It was prison term to ingest the keystone from Ashton.

But, before he could make his motility, two figures approached from the nominal head of the manse. Walking towards the car. Two fair sex. Both blond and beautiful. Just like Ashton. Dustin looked them over from his hiding space in the back prat. He already knew them. Two of Nicole's bodyguards…and lovers.

The one on the right. Kaitlin Bennett. Big. She was a big little girl. But in a nice way. A very nice way. She was in her early twenties. Glamorous wench face. Wide smile. Deep bluing eyes. Pouty, full lips painted bright cherry red. Spectacular consistence. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless breasts swinging and bouncing as she walked. thick, wavy, platinum blond hair. Like Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a hopeful red, stretch along lycra, micro minidress with a deep V-neckline, spaghetti straps, and a plunging open back. So short that it barely covered her tight buns in back and her red G-string in front man. So tight that it stretched around her broad pelvic girdle and labialize ass like shrink-wrap. dorsum seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely legs. Red spike-heeled platform stilettos surrounded her pretty ft. A weighed down orangeness and nigrify gold QAnon necklace hung around her cervix, falling down between her big knocker. Kaitlin. A platinum blonde thunderclap. Showing mickle of deep cleavage. hatful of long, sonsie leg. And that utter round ass. Big. Tight. And hot.

And the early girl. The one on the leftfield. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. deep twenties. Cute and curvy. Seductive sister face. Sexy smile. Dimpled cheeks. Big green eyes. Honey-colored long blonde tomentum. Glossy pink lipstick. Long gold earrings and glittering Au bracelets. A amber QAnon pendant dangling from her pierced omphalus. Wearing a shiny blue metal micro miniskirt, matching aristocratical metallic subway top, and expensive spike-heeled sinister pumps. Her high, firm 36C tits bounced and jiggled as she yanked open the front passenger door, hopped in, and started talking.

"Ashton. Listen Ashton. We've got a job. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another black fille. What was her name ? You know."Stacey flair ”. The one we picked up the other Night at the guild, and brought back here. Remember ? well, Nicole. She hated Stacey right away. Because Stacey was bleak. And because of her eubstance. Stacey looked so in effect in that white leather catsuit with the zipper pulled down, and her big tits falling out, and her big, round ass stretching out the back, and those platform spike dog she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a real hottie. With that body. And that long, thick, curly melanise hair hanging all the way down her back. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to get it on her starting time. You know. Before we killed her. She was so tall 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 hall. And she started making jokes about"Indo-European blondes"and"Stupid QAnons"and shit like that. And Nicole got tangible mad as common. Stacey got scared and tried to allow for, but we wouldn't let her. We kinda had a big conflict. 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 reply. 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 feet down, and her hands were tied, and she was screaming substantial loud and boot, and all the other girls 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 over. And we did some foul things to her. You know. Really foul. We chopped off all her yearn, thickly, total darkness hairsbreadth. Nicole's gon na keep it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her white leather thong down her throat. 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 nuts. She really did a number on Stacey's ass with that, you know, strap-on thing. And Nicole used her big QAnon branding iron on Stacey's tits. And I strangled her with my work force. And it just seemed to go on forever. And we, you know, killed her. Now we have to get rid of the consistence ‘ do it's pretty messed up. And, well, Nicole wants us to use your car. And, well, we have to do it now ‘ movement Nicole's having a big party tonight. There's already a crew of really precious American girls here. They're all blonde and sexy ! And Nicole says we can throw any unity we want !

Nicole says she'll do something limited for you if you help us. She knows how horny you are, and how much you like French-kissing ! semen on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll kiss you yearn and boring, with wad of tongue, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my pussy if you want. You know how much I really hump it grueling in my pussy ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so ready for some hot action tonight. face at her in that shiny red clothes with all that beautiful platinum hair's-breadth. God, she's so sexy ! She looks just like Marilyn Monroe ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather miniskirt ‘ cause it makes your edge feeling hot ! She really wants you bad tonight. She told me so. But you better take in 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 really ass bandit ! Just another crazy QAnon squawk, like Nicole. And all the residual of us ! So, Ashton, come on. You got ta supporter us. We need to get rid of the blackened gripe now. Then we can all go back to the manse for some fun. OK ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll helper you. No problem. It'll be a delight. I've always hated those black slut anyway. They're not strong and blonde and beautiful like us. piece of tail em'! But, first you got ta move over me a buss. Kinda like a"down defrayal ”. Come on, Lauren, gim me some tongue. Kiss me sound, baby. Then we'll dump that black whore, and find some new dark-skinned sluts to fuck with. Someone different this time. Not another lightlessness bitch. How ‘ bout a cute niggling Filipina girl, or maybe a Mexican chick with overnice big titmouse ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and conduct out some unplayful punishment and pain. I just love it when they scream and holler ! Then we'll killing ‘ em just similar Stacey. Nice and slack. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's kill a couple tonight. I wNicole finger the boot this fourth dimension too ! C'mon, sister. All this talk of the town about killing more cinnamon-colored squawk is makin'me so hot and horny. Kiss me. Kiss me existent adept ! We'll make Kaitlin so jealous !"

Ashton and Lauren leaned together for a late French-kiss, red lip rouge mixing with pink gloss as their wet brim came together and their tongues began a deep and satisfying exploration.

Dustin's kernel began to pound. He squirmed in the back behind. He felt prepare 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 scope 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 next to the car. In that red minidress. And those tall program heels. With all that atomic number 78 blonde falling around her face and articulatio humeri. And her big pectus heaving up and down. She was mad. Waving her munition. Pointing. Pointing into the back tail. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Sir Frederick Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite take it out."Something ”,"mortal ”,"in the back ”. What ?

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

Ashton hit the button and all four window lowered. Kaitlin was screaming.

"There's individual in the rear 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 garb, way down into her inscrutable cleavage. He grabbed one of her red-hot 38DD braless bosom with his strong good paw, squeezing hard, jerking her forward, pulling her chief through the overt windowpane, before hitting the button again. Before Kaitlin could pull herself back out, the windowpane came up, closing on her slender cervix, pinning her gorgeous human face and atomic number 78 blond Curl inside the car while her voluptuous body and long stocking-clad leg writhed outside. boot 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 incline of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted window. Banging her clenched fist on the glass. Gripping the window with her fingers, she pushed frantically against the real estate glass with her hands, trying to give away the branding iron clutch that the windowpane had on her head and neck. Kaitlin's big tits spilled from the V-neck of her red minidress, flattening against the cold window glass. Her one shot, house ass strained inside the short circuit, crocked frock, big buns wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing intensified. Her tongue protruded sexily between her ruby red backtalk, and her big blue eyes widened and bulged as she began to slowly smother, her top dog trapped in the closing window.

"One down, two to go"persuasion Dustin, as he turned his attending to Ashton and Lauren. But the two blond babes were already making their motility. He could see them both. Reaching for something. Ashton's hand was in the car's glove compartment. Lauren's was in her pocketbook. They were pulling out handgun. And turning towards the back seat. Dustin's thinker began to race.

"Shit, an hour ago I thought these American bird were all just a bunch of high-class Richard Hooker. What's up with all the fucking heavy weapon ? And all this QAnon crap ?"

As he finished that thought, Dustin grabbed a handful of Ashton's head of hair of long blond fuzz, and yanked difficult, pulling the screaming blonde out of her sitting position, and halfway back over the driver's seat. With her head and shoulders now hanging into the backseat, the epicurean prostitute continued screaming. And screaming. And screaming. Waving her gun in the air, trying to get off a shot. Big tits bursting from her balancer top. Leather mini horseback riding high up her firm second joint. Spike-heeled boots slamming against the steering cycle and windscreen as her hanker stage pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"vane through the rear of the device driver's seat, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blonde on the recollective stainless steel knife blade. The sword cut through tooshie fabric, shiny leather, voiced skin, toned muscle and hard bone before exploding up into Ashton's big right breast, slicing upward through her succulent tit nub, punching out through her nipple and the front of her strapless hangman's halter, leaving a jagged hole in the tight fabric of the contraband leather top, with the bloody knife tip poking up and out. Ashton's big blue center widened in disbelief, her gaze fixed on the tart blade protruding from her once-perfect breast. Her mouth fell open in a noiseless howler as line of descent began to filter from the street corner of her big red rim. Then it began. The wild struggling. The furious flailing of arms. The violent kick of long, booted wooden leg. And the haphazardness. The squealing noises. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the transfix blond tried in vain to exempt herself from the 13"steel that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her handgun towards the back up can. Dustin ripped the gun from Sir Frederick Ashton's twitching right mitt, and shoved the gun barrel between the seats. The simultaneous holla of two handguns filled the air with a deafening noise. Dustin felt the hot breath of Lauren's bullet train whizzing past his ear, and heard the shattering of glass behind him as the window exploded.

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

Two hot slug drilled into Lauren's jiggling right breast, while another tore through the gist of her big leftfield tit, obliterating her large tumid teat. A fourth bullet ripped unfastened her passably omphalos, shattering the amber QAnon belly piercing, burying itself oceanic abyss in her tight gut. She gasped and grunted as her body flew back, banging hard against the threshold, forcing it open. As blood squirted from the three burnt blackened holes in her shiny naughty top, trickled across her slopped tummy, and dribbled out of her pretty knock mouth, she began to diminish backwards out of the opening rider door. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her blasphemous metallic miniskirt up her second joint, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered black satin thong. And a petty tattoo. On the inside of her correct thigh. A QAnon. A little QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to pull herself back up, she clawed desperately at the rider fundament with her left hand while frantically waving her handgun with the right hand. Trying to straighten up. She had to get off another jibe. 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 shoulders slid out the door. retentive legs now spread wide, Lauren's right foot was caught under the dashboard, while her entrust foot draped between the seats, spike heeled pump hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the door, her right hand banged hard on the edge of the dashboard. Lauren lost her clasp on the gun, and it clattered to the asphalt, just inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin sat back, taking a 2nd to watch his breath. But his ears began to ring. From all the racket. Sir Frederick Ashton's shrieking combined with Lauren's groaning and Kaitlin's gurgling was starting to give him a big fat headache. clock time to make a decision. Let's see.

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

Ashton. Yes, he would deal with Sir Frederick Ashton first. It made common sense. She was certainly making the about disturbance. Lauren was only moaning. And Lauren wasn't a terror anymore. She had lost her gun. And she was hangin'out the door. Gut nip. Tit shot. And bleeding all over that glistening risque 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. Sir Frederick Ashton. Yes, Sir Frederick Ashton would be first.

Dustin watched her desperate struggling. Her long blonde pilus hung down behind her, draping over the back prat, swinging back and Forth River as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that sexy black leather outfit. Everything was so inadequate and tight. Her improbable blackened spike heeled iron heel banged and crashed against the steering wheel and car ceiling as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those long, shapely wooden leg. Her tight leather mini stretched around her house 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 long tongue tip rising like a silver spike from the shopping centre of her huge justly breast.

Then he saw it. The tattoo. A little QAnon. Just like Lauren's. senior high school on the inside of her left second joint. right next to the lightlessness leather thong that barely covered her neatly trimmed cunt. He wondered if Kaitlin had one too. A tattoo…and a thong…and a cute pussy. He would determine out soon enough.

Dustin leaned in close, whispering in Ashton's ear as he stroked her foresightful blonde whisker with his unexpended hand, pawed her leather thong with his right field, and used his knife to slowly lick the dripping pedigree from the sharp knife blade that rose out of her breast.

"I heard your admirer Lauren say you like"French-kissing, long and slack ”. You want some now ? Lem me record you my special proficiency. You'll love it. Every now and then I use it on a beautiful girlfriend 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 lip over hers. The gifted Italian hitman locked his lips around hers, forcing his tongue down her throat as her dotty wriggling and squealing escalate. He French-kissed her deeply, plunging his spit in and out of her oral fissure, rolling it round and round of golf as she struggled frantically for air. Her foresightful hair swung back and forth 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 kiss of death, keeping his rima oris locked over Sir Frederick Ashton's ruby-red lips, pinching her nose shut with his leave behind bridge player, while using his right to explore her sonsie writhing soundbox. Sliding his fingertips back and off across her flat tum. Stroking the front of her leather mini. Reaching underneath to fondle and hug the strawman of her glossy leather thong. Exploring the redolence that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling knockers. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent tit through the soft sexy leather of her strapless hemp top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

"OK, babe. Get ready. Here it comes. This one's for Stacey ”.

Dustin gripped the knife handle protruding from the seat, slowly slid the blade out, and then shoved it heavily back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the tongue out and plunged it back into the backside. And into Ashton. With each deep thrust, more of the crashing knife tip exploded up and out of her rolling and wobbling titty. Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her tail each time the sharp blade ripped a scraggy new muddle in her tight leather haltere top. She rose up one last clock time, arching her rear, tits pierce upward, eyes wide, legs vellication, 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 longsighted mane of thick blonde hair hanging to the floor of the plunk for seat. This sure was hard work. But very satisfying nonetheless. And at least it was a little quieter now. Only one fille groaning, and another female child gurgling. He would deal with Lauren adjacent. He would salve Kaitlin for last. She really did look just like Marilyn Marilyn Monroe. He liked that. Besides, Kaitlin was the one who'd detriment Stacey the most. He would do her conclusion. And he would delight her the most. Beautiful, sexy Kaitlin. Platinum blonde Kaitlin. With that skintight red garb. And those recollective, muscular branch. And those big firm tits. And that beat, inviting ass.

Dustin picked up Ashton's gun again, and looked between the straw man nates at Lauren, still lying on her back, falling part way out the passenger door. One leg under the dashboard below the steering wheel, the other leg thrust between the hind end, her spike heeled pump almost laying in Dustin's lap. wooden leg spread extensive. blue angel micro miniskirt hiked up to her hips. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut blastoff. heater buried in big, fast tits. Shiny down in the mouth tube top stained red. But she was still alive. 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 tush, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful face and closely, athletic body. Watching her blue mini rise and pin on her juicy second joint. Big tits thrust upward. blond hair hanging out the door. He slid the gun barrel up and down her long right leg, tracing the outline of her pointy spike heel, and the bender of her shapely sura and toned second joint. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from ankle to crotch, rolling the barrel back and off across her QAnon tattoo, poking and probing the social movement of her black satin thong with the still-smoking barrel. Slowly pushing the handgun up and underneath her shining risque metallic annulus, 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 pass. Trying to cull 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, sister. Just try a little harder. You're almost there. make out on. load 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 aright helping hand. Trying to promote herself up. Trying to point the gun.

"I heard you tell Ashton that you really hump it hard in your pussy. fountainhead, Ashton can't aid you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something strong for your pussy. Yeah, something firmly. And hot. tangible hot. Something that's gon na filling you up. Nice and deep. You know. I always aim to please, baby. I aim to please. Sorry odorous impudence, but your metre is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's legs, sliding his gun up her thigh until it disappeared under her inadequate dame, rolling the drum in slow up circles over the rhinestones that adorned her shiny black satin lash. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an flash, an earsplitting hollering echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot slug blew a heavy cakehole in the center of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her body into the air, throwing her back. With arms flailing, ramification boot, and breasts jiggling, she sailed backwards out the doorway, thudding on the ground outside the car with only her farseeing legs still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her tight micro miniskirt slid down her thigh, bunching at her hips, exposing her blood-soaked G-string, and perforated pussy. Shapely legs rose high in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her tall spike-heeled black ticker flew off her twitching metrical foot, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and shiny Au toe rings.

Lauren arched her back, moaning, groaning, rolling her hips from side to side. Her struggles grew weaker. She exhaled one last time. oral cavity agape. centre 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 epic battle with the window that ensnared her slender neck. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the answer. A lilliputian mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both hand through her thick Pt hair. He licked the tip of her bulging glossa, and tasted the cherry savour of her red lipstick. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her sassing with his spit. And he let the window down. Ever so slightly. She coughed. She gasped. Sucking in mouthfuls of air as the windowpane fell away from her neck. Giving her a petty room to pass off. The color was starting to come back into her beautiful case. Good. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much to a greater extent to do.

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

"You stupid bastard ! Who are you ? Who the fuck are you ? You killed Sir Frederick Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that stupid smuggled kick, Stacey ? Are you brainsick ? Are you fucking crazy ? Mein Gott ! She was nothing ! Nothing ! She was a vile sinister whore ! You son of a bitch ! You'll never get away with this ! You'll never get out of here alive ! There are more of us ! Inside ! There are more of us ! We are all Aryan and strong ! Not like that whining black-market slattern, Stacey ! We are all blonde and beautiful ! We have gunman and we will stop you ! We will come after you ! And kill you ! Nicole will belt down you for this ! When I get idle, I will kill you ! I'll kill you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"

Dustin gripped her top dog again, stroking his fingers through her heavyset atomic number 78 whisker. He leaned in close for another deep French-kiss. She squealed and struggled for a instant, but then relaxed as he probed her big, red lip and warm, wet backtalk with his tongue once again. Then he pulled back.

"Ssshhhh ! Ssshhhh ! repose down, will ya. You got ta learn to chill out down and relax a lilliputian bit, baby. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na kill 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 defeat Nicole Arbour. And you can't stop me. I heard your short friend Lauren telephone call you ‘ a rattling 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 notice out. I'm gon na try out a few affair on you. A slight experiment. You'll have to let me know if I'm on the correctly track. keep back on. justify me for a minute of arc. I think I hear person at the back room access. Your back door. And a perfumed 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 windowpane. He stroked his stopcock to full hardness as he watched her wriggle, squirm, vociferation and curse. Kaitlin's big tits shook and wobbled inside the tight V-neck of her low-cut wearing apparel as she frantically pushed and pulled at the windowpane, banging her fists on the unyielding glass. The shiny red lycra micro minidress clung to her sonsy consistency like a second skin, thin spaghetti straps draping across her shoulders, open back plunging down to the sally of her ass, skintight red lycra fabric stretching around her wide articulatio coxae, barely covering her rhythm, firm buns. Her recollective, be given, well-muscled legs poured from the dresses'sky-high hemline and into a dyad of strappy red stilettos, the 5"spike hound clicking and clattering on the asphalt as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every inch of her sleek, supple legs, the long, non-white back seam traveling up the backs of her calfskin and second joint like an erotic 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 shiny stretching lycra minidress, following the curve of her hips, over her flat tummy, up across her chest, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD rack, back down across her passementerie waist, under her dress, to her red G-string, stroking, and stroke, and stroking with his hands, caressing her streamlined stockings, running his fingertips up and down her curvy legs, squeezing her calf, then moving richly up her thigh, to his final terminus, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the niggardliness of her big, round tooshie through the crafty lycra fabric of her skintight red dress. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the cover of her tight mini…and saw the little QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big laughingstock cheeks.

"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, all in, QAnon bitch girlfriend. Sorry, they can't help you. Nicole can't help you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get cook, you big, beautiful, bootylicious, light-haired gripe. 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 equal me ! I'll kill you ! I'll kill you ! Nicole will stamp out you ! She would never let anything occur to me ! I'm her devotee ! Her fan ! 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, bout booty from behind, plunging his immense shaft trench into her hot, juicy ass, up to the hilt. Kaitlin's high-pitched 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 pace. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and mysterious. Pumping her ample and curvaceous buttocks hard from behind as he pulled back on the heavyset gold Chain of her gleam QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust heavily, cryptical into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky rodeo rider, pounding her sweet cheeks as she bucked and rolled, her brain twist and neck stretch, trapped by the closed 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 helping hand to Kaitlin's busty hips and pulled her back. Putting his full weight behind each driving force, he pounded her beautiful round of drinks buns with long full cerebrovascular accident, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, thick shaft. Her gorgeous bubble cigaret wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his crotch as he continued his steadily, late stroke. 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 tight ass like a red hot Piston. The once proud and self-important platinum blond QAnon thunderclap wailed and squealed with each sinewy thrust, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled platform sandals, sonsy leg muscles 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 cerebrovascular accident after stroke after throw after stroke after virgule after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could finger it. Rising up like a vent. prepare to belch. He pumped her severely. 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 hold out clock time, then went limp. Still hanging from the window. Arms at her side. Huge 38DDs pressed flat against the side of the car. platinum blonde hair spilling around her gorgeous face. center bulging. knife poking out between her glistening red sassing. Stocking-clad wooden leg splayed out across the cold 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 oneself Nicole. But it wouldn't be easy. There were to a greater extent of these crazy blond QAnon gripe inside the mansion. He would probably have to kill them all to get to Nicole. Might as well pop out now.

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her juicy thighs, and hoisted her voluptuous dead body through the opening night, division way into the back. She hung there with her amphetamine body inside the car, neck opening stretched, read/write head bent awkwardly, platinum blonde hair spreading in wave across the backseat, her upturned ass, long leg, and red spike blackguard still dangling out the windowpane, rill of hot cum dripping down the backs of her shapely second joint and calves, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the aphrodisiacal G-string suspension from Kaitlin's mortise joint, rubbed the red panty slowly up and down the backs of her cum-stained legs, then held the thong to his face, savoring the titillating scent of his own cum miscellaneous together with her hot sweat and the expensive body lotion she'd applied only an hour before her death. He pushed the sticky G-string past tense Kaitlin's big, red lips and into her sensuous mouth, using his fingertips to bear on the sexy red scanty deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his hands around her slender ankle joint, pulling her into the car, and laying her pretty feet and red-painted toes across Sir Frederick Ashton's naked thighs, leaving only her big bosom, beautiful staring human face, and long blonde hair dangling out the door. He slid Lauren's black satin lash past her strengthen thighs, curvy calves, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his face, inhaling the titillating perfume of her quick origin combine with the expensive perfume she'd sprayed on her pussy 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 finger to pressure the bootleg satin thong deep down her throat.

Ashton was okay where she was. Bent back over the driver's tooshie. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade tongue. Tits up. Long hair hanging into the back. Booted legs draped over the steering roulette wheel. Leather mini bunched around her coxa. Dustin pulled the switchblade knife from the can back, using Sir Frederick Ashton's long mane of thick, prosperous hair to wipe the blade clean. He pulled the knife down across her dresser, slicing her halter top in half to expose her two magnificent 34DD tits, then carved down through soft leather and toned thigh to lop the side chain of her sexy Black person leather thong. Gripping the shiny black triangle covering her pussy, he pulled up, tearing the step-in off her cooling physical structure. Dustin held it high up, like a trophy, admiring the glossy black leather, and breathing in the titillating aroma of balmy leather soaked and stained with the urine of a true Aryan bitch. Dustin wouldn't material these panties down Sir Frederick Ashton's throat. He would keep them for himself.

Dustin could get wind noises now. They were coming. The early blondes from the sign of the zodiac. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would allot with them all. One after another. Then he would feel their loss leader. Madam Nicole.

And the real fun would start .