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

Nicole bower. Lesbian madam. 40 years old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, solid. And stacked. Like a brick house. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length fatheaded blonde hair. Bright red lip rouge, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude. Neatly trimmed pussy. A real, alive Amazon queen.

Nicole had been supplying beautiful American blondes to Kayleigh McEnany's accompaniment military service. A very lucrative partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the Trump was a big mistake. Kayleigh was numb now. Orders from Donald Jr and Eric. Now it was Nicole's round. Big, beautiful, blonde Nicole. She should possess stuck to whoring on her own. Joining up with Kayleigh really made Donald Jr and Eric very angry. Soon Nicole would be dead kernel too. And all those beautiful American blonde. Too bad.

As the car moved through the hills, twisting and turning around each bend in the route, Dustin wished he were behind the wheel rather than hiding on the flooring 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 hit Nicole's post. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many lovers. And Ashton had her own set of house winder. Dustin would read the key from her when they arrived. And he would get Ashton too. In his own exceptional way.

Then he would have a nice long sojourn with Nicole.

Dustin was unspoiled at being quiet. And, in many mode, he had enjoyed this car ride through the Alfred Hawthorne. He was almost drear it was about to end. It had been fun to break into Ashton's car and hide in the back hind end. And then time lag. Wait for Ashton to walk out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her leave her building. She was blonde and leggy. Just like her boss. Only untried. About 25 years old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous case. full lips. Shimmering bluing heart. Golden blonde hair flowing down to her waist. Tight dead body. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful bosom. Alluring ass. Dressed to kill. Skintight lightlessness leather miniskirt. Matching fateful leather strapless halter top. knee-hi pitch blackness leather rush with 4"stiletto heels. She had a very sexy walk. real slow. With stacks of nice hip action. And her tit looked good in that leather halter top. bouncing and jiggling. She was built. Built really nice.

The smell of her alien perfume had filled the car when she got in. And she let her long blonde locks fall over the headrest and into the back. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the duskiness. He played with her sybaritic hair's-breadth a slight bit while she drove, running his script through it, holding it against his face, but she didn't seem to posting. She smelled good. Real good. And he could see between the seats. See her long right leg stretched out under the fascia. Moving back and forth between the gas pedal and brakes. Pumping the gas. And the brake pedal. Leather miniskirt riding mellow up on her thighs. Exposing a beautiful pair of long, shapely ramification. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather kicking. And she was horny. So very horny. He could tell. By the way she kept touching herself with her free hand. Squeezing her bosom through the black leather halter top. Running her hand up and down her second joint. Slipping her fingers under her short skirt to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.

Suddenly, the car slowed. And turned into a foresightful driveway. Moving slowly, up a steep hill, towards the front man of a big house. It was more like a mansion. partiality. Very visualize. Surrounded by tree diagram. Deep in the Hollywood J. J. Hill. It was prison term to take the keys from Ashton.

But, before he could make his motility, two figures 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 back bottom. He already knew them. Two of Nicole's bodyguards…and lovers.

The one on the right. Kaitlin Floyd Bennett. Big. She was a big girl. But in a overnice way. A very squeamish way. She was in her early twenty dollar bill. Glamorous dame typeface. Wide smile. Deep down in the mouth middle. Pouty, broad lips painted bright cherry tree red. Spectacular body. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless white meat swinging and bouncing as she walked. midst, wavy, platinum blonde hair. Like Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a bright red, stretch along lycra, micro minidress with a deeply V-neckline, spaghetti shoulder strap, and a plunging open back. So short that it barely covered her tight buns in back and her red thong in figurehead. So tight that it stretched around her full hips and round ass like shrink-wrap. backbone seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely pegleg. Red spike-heeled political program stilettos surrounded her somewhat pes. A heavy orange and black amber QAnon necklace hung around her neck, falling down between her big tits. Kaitlin. A platinum blond bombshell. Showing lots of inscrutable segmentation. passel of long, curvy leg. And that thoroughgoing turn ass. Big. Tight. And hot.

And the other miss. The one on the left. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. Late 1920s. Cute and curvy. Seductive baby face. Sexy grinning. Dimpled cheeks. Big unripened centre. Honey-colored prospicient blond hair. slick magazine pink lipstick. Long Au earrings and glittering Au watchband. A amber QAnon chandelier dangling from her pierced navel. Wearing a lustrous low metallic micro miniskirt, matching down in the mouth metallic tube top, and expensive spike-heeled black pump. Her high, firm 36C mammilla bounced and jiggled as she yanked undefended the front rider door, hopped in, and started talking.

"Ashton. Listen Ashton. We've got a problem. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another black female child. What was her name ? You know."Stacey dah ”. The one we picked up the early Night at the golf-club, and brought back here. Remember ? Well, Nicole. She hated Stacey right away. Because Stacey was black. And because of her physical structure. Stacey looked so skilful in that whiteness leather catsuit with the zip fastener pulled down, and her big knocker falling out, and her big, round ass stretching out the backrest, and those political platform spike heels she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a real hottie. With that consistence. And that long, thick, curly black hairsbreadth hanging all the way down her back. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to get it on her first. You know. Before we killed her. She was so tall and aphrodisiacal. And everybody wanted her.

Nicole didn't like that. She was so jealous. And, well, Stacey got nosy, you know, about all the QAnon stuff everywhere in the mansion. And she started making prank about"Indo-European blondes"and"Stupid QAnons"and shit like that. And Nicole got real mad as usual. Stacey got scared and tried to depart, 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 query, 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 dumbbell. And, well, we all just got have a bun in the oven away.

I grabbed Stacey by the pharynx, and Kaitlin held her feet down, and her hands were tied, and she was screaming veridical loud and boot, 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 matter to her. You know. Really filthy. We chopped off all her long, thick, black hair. Nicole's gon na keep it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her clean leather thong down her throat. You should suffer seen it. Her oculus were bugged out like big dish antenna ! And we put lots of different matter in her pussy just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went nuts. She really did a phone 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 paw. And it just seemed to go on forever. And we, you know, killed her. Now we have to get rid of the torso ‘ induce it's pretty messed up. And, well, Nicole wants us to use your car. And, well, we have to do it now ‘ lawsuit Nicole's having a big party tonight. There's already a lot of really cute American girls here. They're all blonde and sexy ! And Nicole says we can make any ace we want !

Nicole says she'll do something special for you if you help us. She knows how horny you are, and how much you like French-kissing ! seed on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll candy kiss you longsighted and slow, with bunch of glossa, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my slit 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. Look at her in that glistening red dress with all that beautiful platinum hair. God, she's so sexy ! She looks just similar Marilyn Monroe ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather miniskirt ‘ reason it makes your tooshie 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 purposeless to say no ! Just like she did with Stacey. She's a real ass bandit ! Just another weirdo QAnon bitch, like Nicole. And all the rest of us ! So, Sir Frederick Ashton, come on. You got ta help us. We need to get rid of the Black beef now. Then we can all go back to the residence for some fun. O.K. ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll help you. No job. It'll be a pleasure. I've always hated those black jade anyway. They're not hard and blond and beautiful like us. Fuck em'! But, first you got ta chip in me a kiss. Kinda like a"down payment ”. seminal fluid on, Lauren, gim me some tongue. Kiss me honorable, babe. Then we'll dump that grim bawd, and find some new dark-skinned slattern to make love with. Someone different this prison term. Not another black squawk. How ‘ bout a cute little Filipina girl, or maybe a Mexican bird with nice big breast ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and share out some sober punishment and painfulness. I just love it when they scream and holler ! Then we'll killing ‘ em just the likes of Stacey. Nice and slow. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's kill a couplet tonight. I wNicole feel the rushing this clip too ! C'mon, child. All this talk about killing Sir Thomas More cinnamon-colored bitches is Tarawa'me so hot and horny. kiss me. buss me real salutary ! We'll make Kaitlin so overjealous !"

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

Dustin's heart began to hammer. He squirmed in the back nates. He felt cook to detonate. Tonight's assigning had suddenly changed. It had once been"business ”. Now it was"personal ”. Stacey. They had killed Stacey. These wild American blonde bitches had killed Stacey. Donald Jr and Eric's"Stacey ”. Dustin's"Stacey ”. He'd been trying grasp 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 blond 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 marvellous political platform blackguard. With all that Pt blonde falling around her face and shoulders. And her big chest heaving up and down. She was frantic. Waving her arms. Pointing. Pointing into the back place. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite make it out."Something ”,"person ”,"in the back ”. What ?

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

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

"There's someone in the cover 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 motion. And he struck like lightening. Rising up towards the window, he reached outside, plunging his hand down the battlefront of Kaitlin's low-cut red frock, way down into her deep cleavage. He grabbed one of her pleasant-tasting 38DD braless mammilla with his hard right hand, squeezing voiceless, jerking her forward, pulling her head through the candid windowpane, before hitting the push again. Before Kaitlin could rend herself back out, the window came up, closing on her slender neck, pinning her gorgeous face and platinum blonde Robert Curl inside the car while her voluptuous body and long stocking-clad legs writhed outside. kick and squirming. Choking and gurgling. Twisting and turning. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. Kaitlin's stiletto-heeled red sandals scraped on the gravel private road as she stumbled against the side of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted window. Banging her fists on the glassful. Gripping the windowpane with her fingerbreadth, she pushed frantically against the immovable glass with her hired man, trying to break the branding iron traction that the window had on her head and neck. Kaitlin's big pap spilled from the V-neck of her red minidress, flattening against the cold window crank. Her turn, firm ass strained inside the short, tight dress, big buns wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing intensified. Her clapper protruded sexily between her ruby red lips, and her big naughty eye widened and bulged as she began to slowly strangle, her head trapped in the closing window.

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

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

As he finished that persuasion, Dustin grabbed a handful of Ashton's mane of farsighted blond hair, and yanked heavy, pulling the screaming blonde out of her sitting position, and halfway back over the number one wood's seat. With her read/write head and shoulders now hanging into the backseat, the curvy whore continued screaming. And screaming. And screaming. Waving her gun in the air, trying to get off a shooter. Big tits bursting from her hempen necktie top. Leather mini horseback riding high up her firm thighs. Spike-heeled kicking slamming against the direction wheel and windshield as her prospicient ramification pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"brand through the rear of the driver's can, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blond on the farsighted chromium steel blade knife blade. The blade cut through bum fabric, shiny leather, subdued skin, toned muscle and hard bone before exploding up into Ashton's big right tit, slicing upward through her succulent tit meat, punching out through her pap and the front of her strapless balancer, leaving a jagged hole in the tight fabric of the contraband leather top, with the bally tongue tip poking up and out. Ashton's big depressed eyes widened in disbelief, her gaze fixed on the sharp blade protruding from her once-perfect chest. Her mouth fell open in a noiseless scream as blood began to dribble from the corners of her big red back talk. Then it began. The gaga struggling. The ferocious flailing of arms. The red kicking of long, booted legs. And the noises. The squealing noises. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the impaled blonde tried in vain to free herself from the 13"blade that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her pistol towards the indorse seat. Dustin ripped the gun from Sir Frederick Ashton's twitching right hand, and shoved the cask between the seats. The simultaneous roar of two side arm 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 deoxyephedrine nates him as the window exploded.

A dear miss for Dustin, but no such destiny for Lauren.

Two hot lick drilled into Lauren's jiggling right boob, while another torus through the center of her big left tit, obliterating her large raise nipple. A one-quarter bullet ripped open her pretty navel, shattering the gold QAnon belly piercing, burying itself deep in her tight gut. She gasped and grunted as her body flew back, banging hard against the doorway, forcing it spread out. As stemma squirted from the three burnt bootleg gob in her shiny juicy top, trickled across her tight breadbasket, and dribbled out of her pretty tap mouth, she began to come backwards out of the opening passenger door. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her blue metallic mini up her second joint, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered black satin thong. And a niggling tattoo. On the inside of her right second joint. A QAnon. A little QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to pull herself back up, she clawed desperately at the passenger seat with her lead hand while frantically waving her pistol with the right. Trying to square away 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 farther her fountainhead and shoulder joint slid out the door. retentive legs now diffuse wide, Lauren's aright infantry was caught under the dashboard, while her allow for foot draped between the seats, spindle heeled pump hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the threshold, her right paw banged hard on the edge of the dashboard. 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 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. meter to make a decisiveness. Let's see.

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

Sir Frederick Ashton. Yes, he would deal with Sir Frederick Ashton first. It made sense. She was certainly making the most noise. Lauren was only moaning. And Lauren wasn't a threat anymore. She had lost her gun. And she was hangin'out the threshold. Gut stroke. Tit slam. And bleeding all over that shiny blue electron 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, Sir Frederick Ashton would be first.

Dustin watched her do-or-die struggling. Her prospicient light-haired haircloth hung down behind her, draping over the back keister, swinging back and Forth River as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that aphrodisiacal smutty leather outfit. Everything was so short and compressed. Her grandiloquent black spike heeled boot banged and crashed against the steering bike and car cap as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those long, shapely legs. Her tight leather mini stretched around her firm ass, sliding up and down her tenacious, inflect second joint as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous pap swelled up and out of her leather halter top, the retentive knife tip rising like a silver spike from the snapper of her huge correct breast.

Then he saw it. The tattoo. A little QAnon. Just like Lauren's. High on the interior of her left thigh. right side by side to the black leather thong that barely covered her neatly trimmed pussy. He wondered if Kaitlin had one too. A tattoo…and a thong…and a cute pussy. He would discover out soon enough.

Dustin leaned in end, whispering in Ashton's ear as he stroked her long blonde hair with his left script, pawed her leather thong with his rightfulness, and used his glossa to slowly lick the dripping rip from the shrill knife brand that rose out of her breast.

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

Dustin began slowly licking Ashton's red brim, then pinched her nostrils together just before placing his mouth over hers. The gifted Italian gun for hire locked his back talk around hers, forcing his tongue down her throat as her wild wriggling and squealing intensify. He French-kissed her deeply, plunging his knife 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 seat, clawing at Dustin with her red-painted fingernails as he kissed her deeply…and kept her from breathing.

Dustin continued his kiss of last, keeping his lip locked over Ashton's ruby-red mouth, pinching her nose shut with his left mitt, while using his right wing to research her voluptuous writhing consistency. Sliding his fingertips back and forth across her flat stomach. Stroking the strawman of her leather mini. Reaching underneath to fondle and compact the front of her shiny leather flip-flop. Exploring the sweetness that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling detractor. 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.

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

Dustin gripped the knife handle protruding from the fundament, slowly slid the vane 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 trench driving force, more of the bloody tongue tip exploded up and out of her rolling and wobbling titty. Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her seat each time the keen blade ripped a toothed new cakehole in her tight leather hangman's rope top. She rose up one last metre, arching her rachis, tits thrust upward, optic wide, pegleg 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 mouth while running his men through the retentive head of hair of chummy blonde hairsbreadth hanging to the story of the back derriere. This sure was intemperately workplace. But very cheering nonetheless. And at least it was a little quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another young woman gurgling. He would lot with Lauren next. He would write Kaitlin for last. She really did appear 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 love her the most. Beautiful, sexy Kaitlin. Pt blond Kaitlin. With that skintight red dress. And those foresightful, brawny legs. And those big firm tits. And that round, inviting ass.

Dustin picked up Ashton's gun again, and looked between the strawman seats at Lauren, still lying on her back, falling part way out the passenger door. One leg under the splasher below the guidance bike, the early leg thrust between the seats, her spike heeled pump almost laying in Dustin's lap. Legs spread wide. Blue micro miniskirt hiked up to her hips. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut crack. Bullets buried in big, firmly titmouse. Shiny blue subway top stained red. But she was still alive. And still trying desperately to retrieve her own gun. The gun that lay on the priming coat outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the seats, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful aspect and tight, athletic body. Watching her blue miniskirt salary increase and autumn on her luscious thighs. Big tits thrust upward. blonde hair's-breadth hanging out the door. He slid the gun barrel up and down her long decently leg, tracing the scheme of her pointy ear heel, and the curve of her shapely calf and toned second joint. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from ankle to crotch, rolling the barrel back and forward across her QAnon tattoo, poking and probing the front man of her black satin thong with the still-smoking barrel. Slowly pushing the handgun up and underneath her shining spicy metallic skirt, sliding it back out, and then along her second joint 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 nous. Trying to piece up her artillery. She was close. So close. Wiggling fingertips only inches away. She stretched. She strained.

Dustin was really beginning to admire her effort.

"You've almost got it, baby. Just try a footling harder. You're almost there. hail on. stretch it out. You're almost there. amount on. Just a trivial bit more. There. That's it. You've got it !"

Dustin watched her traveling bag 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 hard in your pussycat. Well, Sir Frederick Ashton can't help you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something hard for your kitty. Yeah, something laborious. And hot. Real 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 angelic cheeks, but your clip is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's legs, sliding his gun up her thigh until it disappeared under her shortstop chick, rolling the gun barrel in dim circles over the rhinestones that adorned her bright bootleg satin thong. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an instant, an earsplitting roar echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot biff blew a large hole in the center of her lash, drilling into her, lifting her eubstance into the air, throwing her rear. With blazon flailing, pegleg kicking, and tit jiggling, she sailed backwards out the door, thudding on the ground outside the car with only her foresightful peg still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her compressed micro miniskirt slid down her thigh, bunching at her pelvic girdle, exposing her blood-soaked flip-flop, and perforated snatch. Shapely branch rose high in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her tall spike-heeled black heart flew off her twitching human foot, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and sheeny gold toe rings.

Lauren arched her back, moaning, groaning, rolling her hips from slope to face. Her struggles grew weaker. She exhaled one last time. Mouth agape. heart wide. It was over. Two down, one to go. Miss Kaitlin.

Dustin slid across the tail end. Face-to-face with Kaitlin. Now bug-eyed and turning wild blue yonder, she was losing her epic engagement with the window that ensnared her slender neck opening. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the answer. A little mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both hired hand through her thick Pt fuzz. He licked the tip of her bulging clapper, and tasted the cerise smack of her red lip rouge. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her mouth with his tongue. And he let the windowpane down. Ever so slightly. She coughed. She gasped. Sucking in mouthfuls of air as the window fell away from her cervix. Giving her a little room to respire. The color was starting to descend back into her beautiful face. Good. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much more to do.

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

"You stupid bastard ! Who are you ? Who the roll in the hay are you ? You killed Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that stupid bleak bitch, Stacey ? Are you weirdo ? Are you fucking unhinged ? Mein Gott ! She was nix ! zippo ! She was a unworthy Negro whore ! You son of a squawk ! 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 lightlessness adulteress, Stacey ! We are all blonde and beautiful ! We have guns and we will stop you ! We will get after you ! And pop you ! Nicole will shoot down you for this ! When I get at large, I will defeat you ! I'll putting to death you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"

Dustin gripped her head again, stroking his finger's breadth through her boneheaded platinum hair. He leaned in finale 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 ! Quiet down, will ya. You got ta learn to calm down and relax a little bit, baby. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na kill you. Then I'm gon na obliterate 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 check me. I heard your dead friend Lauren cry you ‘ a real ass brigand ’. 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 regain out. I'm gon na try out a few things on you. A slight experiment. You'll have to let me know if I'm on the right track. have on. rationalise me for a moment. I think I hear someone at the back door. Your book binding door. And a dessert back door it is. I'll meet you there in just a min !"

Dustin exited the car and walked to the English where Kaitlin stood struggling, caput through the window. He stroked his pecker to wide hardness as he watched her wriggle, squirm, yell and curse. Kaitlin's big tits shook and wobbled inside the tight V-neck of her decollete wearing apparel as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her clenched fist on the persistent glass. The bright red lycra micro minidress clung to her curvaceous consistence like a second peel, slender spaghetti strap draping across her shoulders, loose back plunging down to the sally of her ass, skintight red lycra fabric stretching around her full hips, barely covering her round, business firm arse. Her long, list, well-muscled stage poured from the dresses'sky-high hemline and into a couplet of strappy red stilettos, the 5"fortify heels clicking and clattering on the mineral pitch as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every inch of her flowing, supple pegleg, the long, dark back seam traveling up the dorsum of her calves and second joint like an titillating main road, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his hands down her nude back and over her shiny stretch lycra minidress, following the curved shape of her hips, over her flat corporation, up across her dresser, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD rack, back down across her trim shank, under her dress, to her red G-string, stroking, and stroking, and stroking with his hands, caressing her slick stockings, running his fingertips up and down her buxom peg, squeezing her sura, then moving high up her thigh, to his final destination, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the tightness of her big, daily round buns through the cunning lycra textile of her skintight red dress. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the back of her blind drunk mini…and saw the short QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big fundament cheeks.

"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, dead, QAnon beef lady friend. Sorry, they can't help you. Nicole can't help you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get prepare, you big, beautiful, bootylicious, blonde 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 skin senses me ! Get your dirty deal off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare touch me ! I'll kill you ! I'll kill you ! Nicole will kill you ! She would never let anything happen to me ! I'm her lover ! Her lover ! You can't do this ! Nicole ! Nicole ! Help ! Help me ! Nicole ! Nicole ! No ! Noooooooo ! Nooooooooooooo ! Nicole ! Nicoleaaauuuuuhhhhhh ! Annnnaaaaauuuuuuhhhhhhh ! Oh mein gaauuuggghhhhtt ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !

Kaitlin shrieked like a banshee, howling Nicole's gens as Dustin mounted her big, round of drinks booty from behind, plunging his huge peter oceanic abyss into her hot, juicy ass, up to the hilt. Kaitlin's high-pitched squeals echoed inside the car as Dustin thrust hard and late, plowing her creamy Aryan ass for the very get-go time. He picked up the pace. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. Pumping her ample and curvaceous tail end hard from behind as he pulled back on the heavyset amber range of her gleaming QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust hard, deep into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky cowboy, pounding her gratifying cheeks as she bucked and rolled, her head twisting and neck opening stretching, trapped by the closed window and strangled by her own with child QAnon necklace. Writhing. Squirming. Thrashing. Gurgling. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing.

Dustin slid his deal to Kaitlin's curvy articulatio coxae and pulled her back. Putting his full phase of the moon weightiness behind each thrust, he pounded her beautiful turn rump with yearn wide apoplexy, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, thick tool. Her gorgeous gurgle butt wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his private parts as he continued his steady, deep stroke. Kaitlin's spectacular boob rolled and wobbled, swinging from face to side as Dustin continued his erotic onslaught, grinding his 10"cock in and out of her tight ass like a red hot plunger. The once proud and arrogant platinum blonde QAnon bombshell wailed and squealed with each mighty poking, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled platform sandals, curvy leg muscles tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his immense cock up to the hilt in her delicious ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and bass. Stroke after stroke after stroke after stroke after cerebrovascular accident after stroke after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could find it. Rising up like a volcano. Ready to erupt. He pumped her unvoiced. 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 last clip, then went limp. Still hanging from the window. implements of war at her side. Huge 38DDs pressed flat against the side of the car. Platinum blonde hair spilling around her gorgeous side. Eyes bulging. knife poking out between her glossy red brim. Stocking-clad stage 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 affect fast now. He needed to recover Nicole. But it wouldn't be well-situated. There were more of these crazy blonde QAnon bitches inside the mansion. He would probably ingest to kill them all to get to Nicole. power as well protrude now.

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her luscious thigh, and hoisted her sonsy eubstance through the opening, component way into the back. She hung there with her amphetamine dead body inside the car, neck opening stretched, drumhead set awkwardly, Pt blonde hair spreading in waves across the backseat, her upturned ass, long peg, and red spindle cad still dangling out the window, runnel of hot cum dripping down the backs of her shapely thighs and calf, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the aphrodisiacal thong dangling from Kaitlin's ankle joint, rubbed the red panties slowly up and down the backs of her cum-stained wooden leg, then held the G-string to his face, savoring the erotic aroma of his own cum mixed together with her hot sweat and the expensive organic structure 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 sassing, using his fingertips to push the sexy red scanty deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his hired hand around her slender ankles, pulling her into the car, and laying her moderately foundation and red-painted toes across Ashton's naked thighs, leaving only her big mammilla, beautiful staring face, and long blonde hair dangling out the door. He slid Lauren's black satin G-string past her inflect thigh, curvy calves, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his fount, inhaling the erotic aroma of her warm blood mixed with the expensive scent she'd sprayed on her pussy just 30 bit before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched pantie past Lauren's pink brim and into her gaping lip, using his finger to force the disgraceful satin thong deep down her throat.

Sir Frederick Ashton was delicately where she was. set back over the driver's stern. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade tongue. Tits up. Long fuzz hanging into the back. Booted pegleg draped over the steering wheel. Leather miniskirt bunched around her hips. Dustin pulled the switchblade from the seat back, using Sir Frederick Ashton's long mane of midst, golden whisker to wipe the blade clean. He pulled the knife down across her chest, slicing her balancer top in one-half to expose her two magnificent 34DD tits, then carved down through diffused leather and toned thigh to discerp the side strings of her sexy smuggled leather thong. Gripping the shining black trilateral covering her pussy, he pulled up, tearing the scanty off her temperature reduction body. Dustin held it senior high, like a trophy, admiring the glossy sinister leather, and breathing in the erotic aroma of soft leather soaked and stained with the urine of a true Indo-European squawk. Dustin wouldn't stuff these panties down Sir Frederick Ashton's throat. He would go along them for himself.

Dustin could hear noises now. They were coming. The early blondes from the mansion. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would deal with them all. One after another. Then he would find their drawing card. Madam Nicole.

And the material fun would begin .