“ I'm getting'too old for this rat"thought Dustin Heard as the car traveled into the Hollywood mound. He was headed toward Nicole's planetary house heights above Los Angeles. Tanned, busty Nicole Arbour. That big, blonde American English cunt. She was goin'down. Permanently. She and all her cute niggling light-haired girlfriends.

Nicole arbour. tribade ma'am. 40 years old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, unassailable. And stacked. Like a brick business firm. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length thick blonde hairsbreadth. Bright red lipstick, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude. Neatly trimmed pussy. A rattling, hold out Amazon queen.

Nicole had been supplying beautiful American language blondes to Kayleigh McEnany's date military service. A very lucrative partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the Trump was a big error. Kayleigh was dead now. parliamentary law from Donald Jr and Eric. Now it was Nicole's turn. Big, beautiful, blonde Nicole. She should have stuck to whoring on her own. Joining up with Kayleigh really made Donald Jr and Eric very angry. Soon Nicole would be utterly center too. And all those beautiful American blond. Too bad.

As the car moved through the Alfred Hawthorne, twisting and turning around each curve in the route, Dustin wished he were behind the bike rather than hiding on the trading floor in the rachis. 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 hand Nicole's berth. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many lover. And Ashton had her own set of house key. Dustin would take the keys from her when they arrived. And he would take Ashton too. In his own peculiar way.

Then he would take a skillful long visit with Nicole.

Dustin was good at being tranquilize. 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 snap off into Ashton's car and hide in the binding seat. And then wait. Wait for Sir Frederick Ashton to walk out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her parting her building. She was blonde and leggy. Just like her foreman. Only young. About 25 years old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous face. full-of-the-moon lips. Shimmering blue eyes. Golden light-haired hair flowing down to her shank. Tight torso. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful boob. Alluring ass. Dressed to kill. Skintight Shirley Temple leather miniskirt. Matching Black person leather strapless hemp top. knee-deep pitch-dark leather boots with 4"stiletto hound. She had a very aphrodisiac base on balls. real number dim. With lot of courteous hip military action. And her teat looked skilful in that leather halter top. bounce and jiggling. She was built. Built real nice.

The scent of her alien scent had filled the car when she got in. And she let her hanker blonde locks fall over the headrest and into the back. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the darkness. He played with her luxuriant hairsbreadth a trivial bit while she drove, running his workforce through it, holding it against his face, but she didn't seem to notice. She smelled trade good. Real undecomposed. And he could see between the nates. See her long right leg stretched out under the dashboard. Moving back and forth between the gas pedal and Pteridium aquilinum. Pumping the gas pedal. And the pasture brake pedal. Leather miniskirt riding high up on her thighs. Exposing a beautiful duo of long, shapely ramification. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather boots. And she was horny. So very corneous. He could state. By the way she kept touching herself with her gratuitous handwriting. Squeezing her boob through the black leather halter top. Running her hand up and down her thigh. Slipping her fingers under her short-change doll to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.

Suddenly, the car slowed. And turned into a farsighted driveway. Moving slowly, up a steep hill, towards the front of a big theater. It was more like a star sign. Fancy. Very visualize. Surrounded by tree diagram. trench in the Hollywood Hills. It was time to assume the key from Ashton.

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

The one on the right hand. Kaitlin Bennett. Big. She was a big girl. But in a nice way. A very nice way. She was in her early twenties. glamourous dolly expression. Wide smile. deep blue heart. Pouty, full-of-the-moon lips painted bright cherry red. Spectacular body. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless chest swinging and bouncing as she walked. Thick, wavy, platinum blonde hair. Like Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a smart red, load lycra, micro minidress with a deep V-neckline, spaghetti straps, and a plunging open up back. So short that it barely covered her tight buns in back and her red thong in front. So tight that it stretched around her full hips and rotund ass like shrink-wrap. Back seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely wooden leg. Red spike-heeled chopine stilettos surrounded her pretty feet. A labored Orange and grim gold QAnon necklace hung around her neck, falling down between her big tits. Kaitlin. A platinum blonde bombshell. Showing scads of abstruse segmentation. passel of long, curvy leg. And that perfective tense bout ass. Big. Tight. And hot.

And the other girl. The one on the left field. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. Late 1920s. Cute and curvy. Seductive babe face. Sexy smile. Dimpled cheeks. Big green eyes. Honey-colored long blonde hair. glossy pink lipstick. Long gold earrings and glittering gold bangle. A gold QAnon pendant dangling from her pierced omphalus. Wearing a shiny bluing metallic micro miniskirt, matching blue metallic subway top, and expensive spike-heeled black pump. Her high, steady 36C tits bounced and jiggled as she yanked outdoors the front passenger door, hopped in, and started talking.

"Ashton. Listen Sir Frederick Ashton. We've got a trouble. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another black girl. What was her figure ? You know."Stacey Dash ”. The one we picked up the other Night at the club, and brought back here. Remember ? Well, Nicole. She hated Stacey right away. Because Stacey was black-market. And because of her body. Stacey looked so good in that white leather catsuit with the zipper pulled down, and her big tits falling out, and her big, round of golf ass stretching out the spinal column, and those weapons platform spike hound she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a real hottie. With that torso. And that long, thick, curly black whisker hanging all the way down her backbone. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to fuck her first. You know. Before we killed her. She was so tall and aphrodisiacal. And everybody wanted her.

Nicole didn't like that. She was so jealous. And, well, Stacey got nosy, you know, about all the QAnon stuff everywhere in the star sign. And she started making jokes about"Aryan blondes"and"Stupid QAnons"and shit like that. And Nicole got literal mad as usual. Stacey got scared and tried to leave alone, 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 outfit, and tied her up. Well, then Nicole started asking her piles of questions, and Stacey wouldn't answer. And, well, you know, then Nicole started working her over. I mean really working her over. Especially those big, chocolate-coloured 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 real 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 cipher wanted us to stop. And we did some awful affair to her. You know. Really awful. We chopped off all her foresightful, thick, black hair. Nicole's gon na keep it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her White leather thong down her throat. You should give seen it. Her optic were bugged out like big dish ! And we put portion of different matter 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 men. And it just seemed to go on forever. And we, you know, killed her. Now we have to get rid of the dead body ‘ 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 company tonight. There's already a bunch of really cute American girls here. They're all blond and sexy ! And Nicole says we can have any ones we want !

Nicole says she'll do something exceptional for you if you help us. She knows how hornlike you are, and how much you like French-kissing ! Come on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll buss you long and slow, with lots of tongue, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my pussy if you want. You know how a good deal I really make love it hard in my pussy ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so ready for some hot natural process tonight. Look at her in that bright red dress with all that beautiful platinum whisker. God, she's so aphrodisiacal ! She looks just the likes of Marilyn Norma Jean Baker ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather miniskirt ‘ cause it makes your rear look hot ! She really wants you bad tonight. She told me so. But you better watch out. She'll get you drunk and try to do your ass with her strap-on when you're too emaciated to say no ! Just like she did with Stacey. She's a rattling ass bandit ! Just another sick QAnon bitch, like Nicole. And all the rest of us ! So, Ashton, total on. You got ta help us. We need to get rid of the shameful bitch now. Then we can all go back to the house for some fun. Okay ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll help you. No problem. It'll be a pleasance. I've always hated those black slattern anyway. They're not hard and blonde and beautiful like us. nooky em'! But, first you got ta give me a candy kiss. Kinda like a"down payment ”. Come on, Lauren, gim me some clapper. snog me good, sister. Then we'll dump that contraband whore, and find some new colored sluts to fuck with. Someone dissimilar this time. Not another grim bitch. How ‘ bout a cute small Filipina girl, or maybe a Mexican chick with nice big breast ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and portion out out some serious punishment and pain in the ass. I just love it when they scream and roar ! Then we'll kill ‘ em just the like Stacey. Nice and decelerate. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's kill a twosome tonight. I wNicole feel the flush this time too ! C'mon, baby. All this talk about killing more cinnamon-colored bitches is makin'me so hot and horny. Kiss me. kiss me real number good ! We'll make Kaitlin so jealous !"

Ashton and Lauren leaned together for a deep French-kiss, red lipstick mixing with knock burnish as their wet sass came together and their natural language began a oceanic abyss and fill exploration.

Dustin's nub began to hammer. He squirmed in the back buttocks. He felt cook to burst forth. Tonight's naming had suddenly changed. It had once been"business ”. Now it was"personal ”. Stacey. They had killed Stacey. These crazy American blond cunt had killed Stacey. Donald Jr and Eric's"Stacey ”. Dustin's"Stacey ”. He'd been trying stretch 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 bitch, Ashton, Lauren, and Kaitlin. They would pay too. Who would stimulate thought ? They were all QAnons ! Every one of them !

Suddenly, Kaitlin appeared succeeding to the car. In that red minidress. And those magniloquent platform heels. With all that platinum blonde falling around her face and shoulder joint. And her big chest heaving up and down. She was frantic. Waving her arms. Pointing. Pointing into the back seat. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite make water it out."Something ”,"Someone ”,"in the rearwards ”. What ?

"What the nooky is she talking about ? Ashton, roll the Windows down ”.

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

"There's individual in the 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 relocation. And he struck like lightening. Rising up towards the window, he reached outside, plunging his hand down the nominal head of Kaitlin's decollete red dress, way down into her rich segmentation. He grabbed one of her red-hot 38DD braless boob with his impregnable mighty hand, squeezing unvoiced, jerking her forward, pulling her drumhead through the open window, before hitting the button again. Before Kaitlin could commit herself back out, the window came up, closing on her slender neck opening, pinning her gorgeous side and platinum blonde roll inside the car while her curvy consistency and long stocking-clad branch 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 incline of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted window. Banging her fists on the trash. Gripping the window with her digit, she pushed frantically against the unmovable methamphetamine with her hands, trying to give out the iron grip that the window had on her head and neck. Kaitlin's big tits spilled from the V-neck of her red minidress, flattening against the cold windowpane glass. Her beat, firm ass strained inside the short, tight apparel, big butt wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing heighten. Her tongue protruded sexily between her ruby red lips, and her big blue eyes widened and bulged as she began to slowly cramp, her head trapped in the shutdown window.

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

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

As he finished that mentation, Dustin grabbed a fistful of Ashton's mane of prospicient blonde hair, and yanked hard, pulling the screaming blonde out of her sitting post, and halfway back over the driver's seat. With her headway and shoulders now hanging into the backseat, the sybaritic sporting lady continued screaming. And screaming. And screaming. Waving her gun in the air, trying to get off a shot. Big tit bursting from her halter top. Leather mini equitation high up her firm second joint. Spike-heeled boot slamming against the steering wheel and windshield as her long legs pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped afford his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"leaf blade through the rear of the driver's seat, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blond on the foresighted stainless blade knife leaf blade. The vane cut through seat textile, shiny leather, balmy peel, toned musculus and severe bone before exploding up into Ashton's big rightfield titty, slicing upward through her succulent tit meat, punching out through her nipple and the front of her strapless halter, leaving a jagged hollow in the tight framework of the Black leather top, with the bloody knife tip poking up and out. Ashton's big blue eyes widened in disbelief, her gaze fixed on the sharp blade protruding from her once-perfect breast. Her mouth fell open air in a noiseless screech as stock began to trickle from the corners of her big red mouth. Then it began. The wild struggling. The maddened flailing of arms. The red kicking of long, booted leg. And the disturbance. The squealing noises. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the impaled blonde tried in vain to free herself from the 13"vane that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her pistol towards the back seat. Dustin ripped the gun from Ashton's twitching proper hand, and shoved the gun barrel between the seats. The simultaneous roar of two handgun 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 glass behind him as the window exploded.

A skinny miss for Dustin, but no such luck for Lauren.

Two hot poke drilled into Lauren's jiggling right knocker, while another torus through the center of her big left tit, obliterating her large put up mammilla. A 4th fastball ripped candid her moderately navel, shattering the gold QAnon belly piercing, burying itself recondite in her blind drunk gut. She gasped and grunted as her body flew back, banging hard against the door, forcing it unresolved. As blood squirted from the three burnt black holes in her shining down in the mouth top, trickled across her tight pot, and dribbled out of her middling pink rima oris, she began to go down backwards out of the possibility rider doorway. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her spicy metallic miniskirt up her thighs, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered black satin thong. And a little tattoo. On the inside of her proper thigh. A QAnon. A short QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to perpetrate herself back up, she clawed desperately at the passenger seat with her unexpended hand while frantically waving her pistol with the right. Trying to tidy up up. She had to get off another injection. She had to. But she was falling out of the car. And she couldn't pull herself back in. The harder she struggled, the foster her read/write head and shoulder joint slid out the door. Long legs now circularise wide, Lauren's right infantry was caught under the splashboard, while her left invertebrate foot draped between the seats, spindle heeled pump hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the door, her right hand hand banged hard on the border 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 instant to catch his breathing time. 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 cephalalgia. Time to puddle a decision. Let's see.

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

Ashton. Yes, he would share with Ashton first. It made signified. She was certainly making the almost dissonance. Lauren was only moaning. And Lauren wasn't a terror 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 pilus hung down behind her, draping over the back butt, swinging back and Forth as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that sexy total darkness leather kit. Everything was so short and tight. Her tall blackamoor spike heeled boot banged and crashed against the direction wheel 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 long, toned thighs as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous breast swelled up and out of her leather halter top, the long tongue tip rising like a flatware spike heel from the heart and soul of her huge right breast.

Then he saw it. The tattoo. A niggling QAnon. Just like Lauren's. High on the inside of her go away thigh. rightfulness next to the bootleg leather thong that barely covered her neatly trimmed kitty. He wondered if Kaitlin had one too. A tattoo…and a thong…and a cunning slit. He would happen out soon enough.

Dustin leaned in close, whispering in Ashton's ear as he stroked her long light-haired hair's-breadth with his pull up stakes hired hand, pawed her leather thong with his rightfield, and used his tongue to slowly lick the dripping blood from the sharp 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 evince you my special technique. You'll love it. Every now and then I use it on a beautiful daughter like you. It's gon na be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for ya ’. It's a real slayer. I guarantee it."

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

Dustin continued his buss of death, keeping his lip locked over Ashton's cherry-red lips, pinching her nose shut with his left handwriting, while using his right to explore her voluptuous writhing consistency. Sliding his fingertips back and away across her vapid tummy. Stroking the front of her leather mini. Reaching underneath to fondle and twinge the front of her glossy leather thong. Exploring the redolence that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling knockers. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent breasts through the soft sexy leather of her strapless hemp top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

"okeh, babe. Get set up. Here it comes. This one's for Stacey ”.

Dustin gripped the tongue handle protruding from the seat, slowly slid the blade out, and then shoved it hard back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the knife out and plunged it back into the buttocks. And into Ashton. With each deep thrust, more of the bloody knife tip exploded up and out of her pealing and wobbling breast. Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her behind each clock time the crisp blade ripped a notched new pickle in her stiff leather halter top. She rose up one last metre, arching her backrest, tits throw upward, eyes wide, branch 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 tongue deep into her wet mouth while running his manpower through the foresightful mane of heavyset blonde pilus hanging to the story of the book binding seat. This sure was intemperately employment. But very fulfill nonetheless. And at least it was a piddling quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another fille gurgling. He would deal with Lauren adjacent. He would save Kaitlin for in conclusion. She really did count just like Marilyn President Monroe. He liked that. Besides, Kaitlin was the one who'd suffering Stacey the most. He would do her last. And he would enjoy her the most. Beautiful, sexy Kaitlin. Pt blonde Kaitlin. With that skintight red clothes. And those long, muscular legs. And those big firm tits. And that round, inviting ass.

Dustin picked up Sir Frederick Ashton's gun again, and looked between the front seats at Lauren, still lying on her back, falling parting way out the passenger room access. One leg under the splashboard below the steering bicycle, the other leg thrust between the seats, her spike heeled pump almost laying in Dustin's lap. leg spread wide-eyed. amobarbital sodium micro miniskirt hiked up to her hips. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut shot. fastball buried in big, firm bosom. Shiny blue sky tube top stained red. But she was still alive. And still trying desperately to remember her own gun. The gun that lay on the ground outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the fanny, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful face and soused, athletic body. Watching her blueness miniskirt rise and spill on her delectable second joint. Big bosom thrust upward. blond hair hanging out the door. He slid the gun barrelful up and down her prospicient right leg, tracing the outline of her pointy spike heel bounder, and the bend 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 figurehead of her black satin G-string with the still-smoking barrel. Slowly pushing the handgun up and underneath her shiny blue metallic skirt, sliding it back out, and then along her thigh again. Sliding upskirt again, then back out. Over and over. Up and down. In and out. Poking, probing, exploring. While she writhed and squirmed. Stretching her arm back over her head. Trying to pick up her weapon. She was close. So close. Wiggling fingertips only inches away. She stretched. She strained.

Dustin was really beginning to admire her effort.

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

Dustin watched her grip the gun with her right hand. Trying to get up herself up. Trying to point the gun.

"I heard you tell Ashton that you really love it intemperately in your twat. well, Ashton can't assistance you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something hard for your pussy. Yeah, something strong. And hot. Real hot. Something that's gon na fill you up. Nice and deep. You know. I always aim to delight, child. I aim to please. Sorry sweet-smelling impertinence, but your clock time is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's pegleg, sliding his gun up her second joint until it disappeared under her short circuit doll, rolling the barrel in dull circles over the rhinestones that adorned her shiny Shirley Temple satin thong. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an minute, an earsplitting holla echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot lick blew a large gob in the center of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her torso into the air, throwing her back. With arms flailing, legs kicking, and breasts jiggling, she sailed backwards out the door, thudding on the ground outside the car with only her foresightful legs still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her tight micro miniskirt slid down her thighs, bunching at her hip joint, exposing her blood-soaked lash, and perforated twat. Shapely legs rose high in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her tall spike-heeled black heart flew off her twitching understructure, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and glistening gold toe rings.

Lauren arched her back, moaning, groaning, rolling her hips from position to face. Her battle grew weaker. She exhaled one conclusion time. lip agape love. Eyes wide-eyed. 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 bluing, she was losing her epic struggle with the windowpane that ensnared her slender neck. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the answer. A little mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both men through her thickset atomic number 78 tomentum. He licked the tip of her bulging natural language, and tasted the cherry flavor of her red lipstick. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her rima oris with his tongue. And he let the window down. Ever so slightly. She coughed. She gasped. Sucking in mouthfuls of air as the window fell away from her neck. Giving her a little room to breathe. The color was starting to come back into her beautiful face. Good. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much to a greater extent to do.

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

"You stupid bastard ! Who are you ? Who the fuck are you ? You killed Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that dolt ignominious bitch, Stacey ? Are you gaga ? Are you fucking half-baked ? Mein Gott ! She was cypher ! Nothing ! She was a worthless sinister whore ! You son of a bitch ! You'll never get away with this ! You'll never get out of here alive ! There are Sir Thomas More of us ! Inside ! There are more of us ! We are all Aryan and strong ! Not like that whining black slut, Stacey ! We are all blonde and beautiful ! We have triggerman and we will stop you ! We will arrive after you ! And pop you ! Nicole will defeat you for this ! When I get liberal, I will wipe out you ! I'll kill you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"

Dustin gripped her head again, stroking his fingerbreadth through her thick Pt hair. He leaned in close for another thick 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 unlax a little bit, baby. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na vote out you. Then I'm gon na 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 utter friend Lauren call 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 find out. I'm gon na try out a few things on you. A little experiment. You'll have to let me know if I'm on the right track. have on. Excuse me for a minute. I think I hear someone at the back door. Your back room access. And a mellisonant 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, drumhead through the windowpane. He stroked his cock to full ruggedness as he watched her wriggle, squirm, yell and jinx. Kaitlin's big tits shook and wobbled inside the wet V-neck of her low-cut dress as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her clenched fist on the unyielding glass. The burnished red lycra micro minidress clung to her curvaceous body like a endorsement skin, thin spaghetti straps draping across her shoulders, out-of-doors back plunging down to the crack of her ass, skintight red lycra fabric stretching around her wide-cut pelvis, barely covering her stave, business firm buns. Her long, run, well-muscled stage poured from the apparel'sky-high hemline and into a pair of strappy red stilettos, the 5"empale heels clicking and clattering on the mineral pitch as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every in of her silklike, lissome pegleg, the farsighted, dark back crinkle traveling up the back of her calfskin and thighs like an titillating main road, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his manpower down her naked back and over her shiny stretch lycra minidress, following the curved shape of her hips, over her categoric tummy, up across her dresser, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD rack, back down across her trim waist, under her clothes, to her red G-string, stroking, and stroking, and stroking with his deal, caressing her sleek stockings, running his fingertips up and down her curvy pegleg, squeezing her sura, then moving high up her thigh, to his final name and address, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the tightness of her big, round tush through the satiny lycra fabric of her skintight red dress. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the back of her crocked mini…and saw the fiddling QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big butt cheeks.

"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, dead, QAnon bitch girlfriends. Sorry, they can't aid you. Nicole can't help you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get ready, you big, beautiful, bootylicious, blonde bitch. 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 soupcon me ! Get your dirty hands off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare match me ! I'll kill you ! I'll kill you ! Nicole will pour down you ! She would never let anything occur to me ! I'm her devotee ! Her buff ! You can't do this ! Nicole ! Nicole ! Help ! aid me ! Nicole ! Nicole ! No ! Noooooooo ! Nooooooooooooo ! Nicole ! Nicoleaaauuuuuhhhhhh ! Annnnaaaaauuuuuuhhhhhhh ! Oh mein gaauuuggghhhhtt ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !

Kaitlin shrieked like a banshie, howling Nicole's name as Dustin mounted her big, round booty from behind, plunging his huge cock deep into her hot, juicy ass, up to the hilt. Kaitlin's high squeals echoed inside the car as Dustin thrust hard and recondite, plowing her creamy Aryan ass for the very first meter. He picked up the gait. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and mystifying. Pumping her ample and stacked stern hard from behind as he pulled back on the dense gold Sir Ernst Boris Chain of her gleaming QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust hard, inscrutable into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky cowboy, pounding her cherubic cheeks as she bucked and rolled, her head twisting and neck stretching, trapped by the closed windowpane and strangled by her own weighty 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 stacked hips and pulled her back. Putting his full weight behind each thrust, he pounded her beautiful turn behind with longsighted broad strokes, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, wooden-headed shaft. Her gorgeous bubble butt wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his crotch as he continued his sweetie, thick stroking. Kaitlin's striking tits rolled and wobbled, swinging from slope to side as Dustin continued his erotic barrage, grinding his 10"turncock in and out of her slopped ass like a red hot plunger. The once proud and arrogant platinum blonde QAnon bombshell wailed and squealed with each powerful knife thrust, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled platform sandals, curvy leg muscleman tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his huge cock up to the hilt in her delectable ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. Stroke after stroke after stroke after stroke after stroke after stroke after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could feel it. Rising up like a vent. Ready to erupt. He pumped her heavily. Harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. As he exploded into Kaitlin's exquisite ass, Dustin heard her neck gap. She shuddered and jerked, twitching wildly, groaning loudly one net prison term, then went hobble. Still hanging from the window. branch at her slope. Huge 38DDs pressed flat against the position of the car. Platinum blonde fuzz spilling around her gorgeous grimace. optic bulging. spit poking out between her showy red lips. Stocking-clad peg splayed out across the frigidness mineral pitch. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. tiny red thong wrapped around her ankles.

Dustin had to be active fast now. He needed to find Nicole. But it wouldn't be comfortable. There were more of these crazy blonde QAnon kick inside the mansion. He would probably give 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 second joint, and hoisted her voluptuous body through the orifice, part way into the backbone. She hung there with her upper physical structure inside the car, cervix stretched, head bent awkwardly, platinum blonde hair spreading in waves across the backseat, her upturned ass, long legs, and red spike heels still dangling out the windowpane, rivulets of hot cum dripping down the backs of her shapely thighs and sura, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the sexy thong dangling from Kaitlin's ankles, rubbed the red panties slowly up and down the backs of her cum-stained legs, then held the G-string to his look, savoring the erotic aroma of his own cum mixed together with her hot fret and the expensive body application she'd applied only an hour before her death. He pushed the sticky G-string past tense Kaitlin's big, red lip and into her sensuous back talk, using his fingertips to push the sexy red panty deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his hand around her slender ankles, pulling her into the car, and laying her jolly feet and red-painted toes across Ashton's naked second joint, leaving only her big tits, beautiful staring face, and long blond hair dangling out the door. He slid Lauren's disgraceful satin G-string past her modulate thighs, curvy calfskin, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his typeface, inhaling the erotic perfume of her warm line commingle with the expensive fragrance she'd sprayed on her slit just 30 minutes before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched panties past Lauren's pink rim and into her gaping mouth, using his fingerbreadth to pressure the melanize satin thong deep down her throat.

Ashton was amercement where she was. hang back over the driver's tail. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade knife. Tits up. Long hair hanging into the vertebral column. Booted legs draped over the steering rack. Leather miniskirt bunched around her pelvic girdle. Dustin pulled the switchblade from the seat back, using Sir Frederick Ashton's long mane of thick, golden hair to wipe the steel clean. He pulled the knife down across her chest, slicing her halter top in half to expose her two magnificent 34DD titty, then carved down through soft leather and toned thigh to sever the side strings of her sexy black leather thong. Gripping the bright black triangle covering her pussy, he pulled up, tearing the step-in off her temperature reduction body. Dustin held it richly, like a trophy, admiring the slick black leather, and breathing in the titillating aroma of soft leather soaked and stained with the urine of a rightful Aryan squawk. Dustin wouldn't material these pantie down Ashton's pharynx. He would keep them for himself.

Dustin could discover stochasticity now. They were coming. The other blonde from the mansion. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would deal with them all. One after another. Then he would incur their leader. dame Nicole.

And the actual fun would begin .