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

Nicole Arbour. Lesbian madam. 40 geezerhood old, 5'10"tall, leggy, gymnastic, firm. And stacked. Like a brick mansion. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length boneheaded blonde pilus. Bright red lipstick, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude person. Neatly trimmed kitty. A real, exist Amazon queen.

Nicole had been supplying beautiful American blondes to Kayleigh McEnany's date service. A very lucrative partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the trumpet was a big mistake. Kayleigh was dead now. ordering from Donald Jr and Eric. Now it was Nicole's turn. Big, beautiful, blonde Nicole. She should take in stuck to whoring on her own. Joining up with Kayleigh really made Donald Jr and Eric very furious. Soon Nicole would be dead essence too. And all those beautiful American blondes. Too bad.

As the car moved through the hills, twisting and turning around each bender in the road, 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 extend to Nicole's home. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many devotee. And Ashton had her own set of sign samara. Dustin would take the keystone from her when they arrived. And he would ask Ashton too. In his own peculiar way.

Then he would give a nice long visit with Nicole.

Dustin was good at being tranquilize. And, in many ways, he had enjoyed this car drive through the Hill. He was almost pitiful it was about to end. It had been fun to demote into Ashton's car and fell in the cover seat. And then wait. Wait for Ashton to take the air out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her leave her construction. She was blonde and leggy. Just like her boss. Only younger. About 25 year old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous brass. full moon lips. Shimmering blue center. Golden blonde tomentum flowing down to her waist. Tight torso. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful boob. Alluring ass. Dressed to kill. Skintight dim leather mini. Matching black leather strapless halter top. Knee-high black leather boots with 4"stiletto heels. She had a very sexy paseo. Real slow. With Lot of overnice hip action mechanism. And her titmouse looked good in that leather hemp top. Bouncing and jiggling. She was built. Built real nice.

The spirit of her exotic fragrance had filled the car when she got in. And she let her long blonde whorl fall over the head restraint and into the backrest. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the darkness. He played with her luxuriant fuzz a short bit while she drove, running his hands through it, holding it against his human face, but she didn't seem to poster. She smelled dependable. rattling good. And he could see between the seats. See her long right leg stretched out under the splashboard. Moving back and Forth between the gas foot pedal and brakes. Pumping the accelerator. And the brake pedal point. Leather mini riding in high spirits up on her thigh. Exposing a beautiful twain of long, shapely branch. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather bang. And she was horny. So very randy. He could evidence. By the way she kept touching herself with her free hand. Squeezing her breast through the smuggled leather hackamore top. Running her hired man up and down her second joint. Slipping her fingers under her brusk wench to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.

Suddenly, the car slowed. And turned into a hanker driveway. Moving slowly, up a steep hill, towards the front of a big house. It was more like a mansion. Fancy. Very fancy. Surrounded by trees. Deep in the Hollywood James Jerome Hill. It was time to necessitate the keys from Ashton.

But, before he could produce his motility, two figures approached from the front man 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 dorsum place. He already knew them. Two of Nicole's bodyguards…and lovers.

The one on the right. Kaitlin Bennett. Big. She was a big girl. But in a nice way. A very decent way. She was in her ahead of time twenties. Glamorous doll aspect. Wide smile. trench blue optic. Pouty, full lips painted smart cherry red. Spectacular physical structure. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless breasts swinging and bouncing as she walked. midst, wavy, atomic number 78 blonde tomentum. Like Marilyn James Monroe. Wearing a vivid red, stretch out lycra, micro minidress with a deeply V-neckline, spaghetti straps, and a plunging open back. So shortly that it barely covered her tight buns in back and her red G-string in front. So soused that it stretched around her full hips and brush up ass like shrink-wrap. Back seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely legs. Red spike-heeled platform stilettos surrounded her reasonably feet. A overweight orange and black gold QAnon necklace hung around her neck opening, falling down between her big tits. Kaitlin. A platinum blonde bombshell. Showing raft of mystifying segmentation. Plenty of long, curvy leg. And that arrant round ass. Big. Tight. And hot.

And the former girl. The one on the left. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. Late twenties. Cute and curvy. Seductive sister nerve. Sexy grinning. Dimpled cheeks. Big green eyes. Honey-colored retentive blond hair. Glossy pink lipstick. Long aureate earrings and glittering gold watch bracelet. A gold QAnon pendant dangling from her pierced navel. Wearing a glazed blue metallic micro miniskirt, matching blue metallic subway top, and expensive spike-heeled black pump. Her mellow, firm 36C tits bounced and jiggled as she yanked receptive the front passenger door, hopped in, and started talking.

"Sir Frederick Ashton. Listen Sir Frederick Ashton. We've got a problem. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another black girl. What was her gens ? 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 melanise. And because of her eubstance. Stacey looked so good 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 weapons platform spike dog she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a really hottie. With that body. And that long, thick, curly melanise hair hanging all the way down her vertebral column. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to fuck her kickoff. You know. Before we killed her. She was so tall and aphrodisiacal. And everybody wanted her.

Nicole didn't like that. She was so overjealous. And, well, Stacey got nosy, you know, about all the QAnon stuff everywhere in the mansion. And she started making gag about"Aryan blondes"and"stupe QAnons"and shit like that. And Nicole got real mad as common. Stacey got scared and tried to pass on, 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 lots of questions, and Stacey wouldn't response. And, well, you know, then Nicole started working her over. I mean really working her over. Especially those big, chocolate-coloured dope. 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 kicking, and all the former young lady 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 foul things to her. You know. Really nasty. We chopped off all her long, slurred, black hair. Nicole's gon na hold open it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her white leather thong down her throat. You should hold seen it. Her heart were bugged out like big saucer ! And we put lots of different things in her pussy just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went bollock. She really did a identification number on Stacey's ass with that, you know, strap-on thing. And Nicole used her big QAnon branding Fe on Stacey's mamilla. And I strangled her with my hands. And it just seemed to go on forever. And we, you know, killed her. Now we have to get rid of the body ‘ stimulate 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 precious American English girlfriend here. They're all blonde and sexy ! And Nicole says we can have any ones we want !

Nicole says she'll do something particular for you if you help us. She knows how horny you are, and how much you like French-kissing ! come on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll buss you foresightful and wearisome, with lots of tongue, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my snatch if you want. You know how lots I really love it hard in my pussy ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so cook for some hot action at law tonight. count at her in that glazed red dress with all that beautiful platinum hair's-breadth. God, she's so sexy ! She looks just wish Marilyn James Monroe ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather miniskirt ‘ cause it makes your butt look hot ! She really wants you bad tonight. She told me so. But you near find out out. She'll get you drunk and try to do your ass with her strap-on when you're too wasted to say no ! Just like she did with Stacey. She's a real ass bandit ! Just another crazy QAnon squawk, like Nicole. And all the balance of us ! So, Ashton, come on. You got ta avail us. We need to get rid of the black bitch now. Then we can all go back to the hall for some fun. Okay ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll help you. No problem. It'll be a delight. I've always hated those black sluts anyway. They're not stiff and blond and beautiful like us. roll in the hay em'! But, first you got ta give me a osculation. Kinda like a"down payment ”. cum on, Lauren, gim me some knife. Kiss me good, baby. Then we'll dump that inkiness woman of the street, and get some new swarthy fornicatress to fuck with. Someone different this time. Not another shameful beef. How ‘ bout a cute slight Filipina daughter, or maybe a Mexican biddy with overnice big titmouse ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and deal out some serious penalisation and botheration. I just get laid it when they scream and holler ! Then we'll putting to death ‘ em just like Stacey. Nice and slow. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's drink down a twain tonight. I wNicole feel the rush this time too ! C'mon, baby. All this lecture about killing more cinnamon-colored kick is Makin'me so hot and horny. Kiss me. snog me existent in effect ! We'll make Kaitlin so jealous !"

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

Dustin's heart began to pound. He squirmed in the second seat. He felt ready to set off. Tonight's assignment had suddenly changed. It had once been"byplay ”. Now it was"personal ”. Stacey. They had killed Stacey. These crazy American language blond cunt had killed Stacey. Donald Jr and Eric's"Stacey ”. Dustin's"Stacey ”. He'd been trying orbit her for Day. Now he knew why she hadn't called him back. Nicole. Nicole had killed his Stacey. Nicole would pay for this. And these three American blonde bitches, Ashton, Lauren, and Kaitlin. They would pay too. Who would have got thought ? They were all QAnons ! Every one of them !

Suddenly, Kaitlin appeared next to the car. In that red minidress. And those marvelous political platform blackguard. With all that platinum blonde falling around her grimace and articulatio humeri. And her big chest heaving up and down. She was mad. Waving her blazon. Pointing. Pointing into the back place. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite shit it out."Something ”,"someone ”,"in the support ”. What ?

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

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

"There's someone in the back 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 figurehead of Kaitlin's low-necked red dress, way down into her deep cleavage. He grabbed one of her scrumptious 38DD braless tits with his impregnable right hand hand, squeezing hard, jerking her forward, pulling her straits through the assailable windowpane, before hitting the button again. Before Kaitlin could force herself back out, the window came up, closing on her slender neck, pinning her gorgeous face and platinum blonde Curl inside the car while her voluptuous body and long stocking-clad legs writhed outside. kicking and squirming. Choking and gurgling. Twisting and turning. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. Kaitlin's stiletto-heeled red sandals scraped on the crushed rock driveway as she stumbled against the face of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted window. Banging her fist on the glass. Gripping the windowpane with her fingers, she pushed frantically against the realty looking glass with her hands, trying to bust 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 insensate window glass. Her daily round, firm ass strained inside the short, tight dress, big seat wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing intensified. Her tongue protruded sexily between her crimson red rim, and her big blue sky heart widened and bulged as she began to slowly repress, her headland trapped in the closing window.

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

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

As he finished that thought, Dustin grabbed a handful of Ashton's head of hair of foresighted blonde tomentum, and yanked intemperate, pulling the screaming blonde out of her sitting position, and halfway back over the device driver's seat. With her head and articulatio humeri now hanging into the backseat, the epicurean whore continued screaming. And screaming. And screaming. Waving her gun in the air, trying to get off a injection. Big nipple bursting from her halter top. Leather miniskirt riding high up her firm thighs. Spike-heeled thrill slamming against the steering rack and windscreen as her farsighted peg pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"blade through the rear of the driver's nates, and into Sir Frederick Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blonde on the long stainless steel steel knife sword. The blade cut through seat textile, shiny leather, soft hide, toned muscle and hard bone before exploding up into Ashton's big right titty, slicing upward through her succulent tit meat, punching out through her mamilla and the front of her strapless halter, leaving a notched hole in the fast fabric of the black leather top, with the blinking knife tip poking up and out. Ashton's big downhearted middle widened in disbelief, her stare fixed on the acutely blade protruding from her once-perfect tit. Her mouth fell unfastened in a noiseless scream as blood began to trickle from the corners of her big red brim. Then it began. The wild struggling. The furious flailing of arms. The violent kick 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 shooting iron towards the back can. Dustin ripped the gun from Ashton's twitching correctly helping hand, and shoved the barrelful between the seats. The simultaneous roar of two shooting iron filled the air with a deafening stochasticity. Dustin felt the hot breath of Lauren's bullet whizzing past his ear, and heard the smashing of glass backside him as the windowpane exploded.

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

Two hot slugs drilled into Lauren's jiggling right breast, while another tore through the center of her big leftfield tit, obliterating her bombastic upright nipple. A fourth bullet ripped open her moderately navel, shattering the atomic number 79 QAnon belly piercing, burying itself deep in her tight gut. She gasped and grunted as her body flew back, banging hard against the door, forcing it surface. As blood squirted from the three burnt Black person holes in her bright blue top, trickled across her tight stomach, and dribbled out of her reasonably rap lip, she began to accrue backwards out of the opening rider door. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her puritanic metallic miniskirt up her thigh, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered dim satin lash. And a fiddling tattoo. On the interior of her aright thigh. A QAnon. A fiddling QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to pull up herself back up, she clawed desperately at the rider seat with her left over hand while frantically waving her pistol with the rightfulness. Trying to straighten up. She had to get off another guesswork. She had to. But she was falling out of the car. And she couldn't get out herself back in. The harder she struggled, the further her chief and articulatio humeri slid out the room access. Long legs now scatter panoptic, Lauren's correctly foot was caught under the dashboard, while her left foot draped between the seats, spike heel heeled pump hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the doorway, her good hand banged hard on the edge of the splasher. Lauren lost her adhesive friction 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 capitulum began to ring. From all the haphazardness. Ashton's shrieking combined with Lauren's groaning and Kaitlin's gurgling was starting to feed him a big fat headache. Time to make a determination. Let's see.

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

Sir Frederick Ashton. Yes, he would contend with Sir Frederick Ashton first. It made sense. She was certainly making the most randomness. Lauren was only moaning. And Lauren wasn't a threat anymore. She had lost her gun. And she was hangin'out the door. Gut shot. Tit blastoff. And bleeding all over that shiny dark pipe 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 hair hung down behind her, draping over the back up seat, swinging back and Forth as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that sexy grim leather outfit. Everything was so short and tight. Her marvellous black spindle heeled boot banged and crashed against the steering bike and car ceiling as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those foresightful, shapely branch. Her closely leather miniskirt stretched around her firm ass, sliding up and down her tenacious, toned thigh as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous tits swelled up and out of her leather hangman's halter top, the foresightful tongue tip rising like a silver spike from the center of her vast correctly breast.

Then he saw it. The tattoo. A little QAnon. Just like Lauren's. High on the interior of her leave second joint. right hand next to the black leather thong that barely covered her neatly trimmed slit. He wondered if Kaitlin had one too. A tattoo…and a thong…and a cute pussy. He would find out soon enough.

Dustin leaned in close, whispering in Ashton's ear as he stroked her long blonde hair with his left deal, pawed her leather G-string with his rightfulness, and used his tongue to slowly lick the dripping blood from the keen tongue blade that rose out of her breast.

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

Dustin began slowly licking Sir Frederick Ashton's red lips, then pinched her nostrils together just before placing his mouth over hers. The gifted Italian hitman locked his lips around hers, forcing his tongue down her throat as her wild wriggling and squealing heighten. He French-kissed her deeply, plunging his natural language in and out of her back talk, rolling it circle and round as she struggled frantically for air. Her long pilus swung back and Forth River 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 buss of demise, keeping his sassing locked over Ashton's ruddy lips, pinching her nose shut with his left handwriting, while using his right to explore her luxurious writhing body. Sliding his fingertips back and forth across her mat tummy. Stroking the front line of her leather mini. Reaching underneath to caress and squeeze the figurehead of her showy leather thong. Exploring the sweetness that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling knockers. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent knocker through the piano sexy leather of her strapless halter top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

"O.K., babe. Get ready. 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 severe back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the tongue out and plunged it back into the bottom. And into Ashton. With each abstruse thrust, Sir Thomas More of the bloody knife tip exploded up and out of her rolling and wobbling boob. Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her tush each meter the sharp blade ripped a jaggy new cakehole in her tight leather haltere top. She rose up one finis prison term, arching her back, tits thrust upward, eyes astray, peg 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 backtalk while running his men through the yearn mane of chummy blonde fuzz hanging to the flooring of the back can. This sure was hard work. But very live up to nonetheless. And at to the lowest degree it was a little quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another fille gurgling. He would deal with Lauren next. He would preserve Kaitlin for last. She really did look just like Marilyn Monroe. He liked that. Besides, Kaitlin was the one who'd hurt Stacey the most. He would do her last. And he would enjoy her the most. Beautiful, sexy Kaitlin. Platinum blonde Kaitlin. With that skintight red dress. And those foresighted, hefty ramification. And those big firm tits. And that round, inviting ass.

Dustin picked up Ashton's gun again, and looked between the nominal head prat at Lauren, still lying on her back, falling part way out the passenger door. One leg under the dashboard below the steering bicycle, the former leg jabbing between the seats, her capitulum heeled pump almost laying in Dustin's lap. Legs spread wide. blue air micro miniskirt hiked up to her rosehip. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut shot. hummer buried in big, firm breast. Shiny blue electron tube top stained red. But she was still alive. And still trying desperately to retrieve her own gun. The gun that lay on the land outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the seats, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful case and sozzled, acrobatic dead body. Watching her blue air miniskirt rise and fall on her luscious thighs. Big boob thrust upward. blonde tomentum hanging out the doorway. He slid the gun barrel up and down her long decent leg, tracing the lineation of her pointy spike heel, and the curve of her shapely calfskin and toned second joint. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from mortise joint to crotch, rolling the barrel back and forth across her QAnon tattoo, poking and probing the front of her black satin thong 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 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 head. Trying to break up 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. Stretch it out. You're almost there. Come on. Just a short bit more. There. That's it. You've got it !"

Dustin watched her travelling bag the gun with her right hand. Trying to raise herself up. Trying to steer the gun.

"I heard you tell Ashton that you really love it hard in your kitty-cat. Well, Sir Frederick Ashton can't help you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something arduous for your pussy. Yeah, something grueling. And hot. real number hot. Something that's gon na fill you up. Nice and bass. You know. I always aim to please, baby. I aim to delight. Sorry sweet nerve, but your time is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's legs, sliding his gun up her thigh until it disappeared under her brusk skirt, rolling the barrelful in slowly circle over the rhinestones that adorned her shining disastrous satin thong. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an instant, an earsplitting roar echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot slug blew a vauntingly mess in the center of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her soundbox into the air, throwing her back. With arms flailing, wooden leg kicking, and breast jiggling, she sailed backwards out the door, thudding on the land outside the car with only her long legs still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her tight micro mini slid down her thighs, bunching at her hips, exposing her blood-soaked lash, and perforated cunt. Shapely leg rose high in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her marvelous spike-heeled Black person heart flew off her twitching human foot, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and shiny gold toe rings.

Lauren arched her back, moaning, groaning, rolling her pelvis from slope to English. Her battle grew fallible. She exhaled one last fourth dimension. lip agape. eyes extensive. It was over. Two down, one to go. young woman Kaitlin.

Dustin slid across the derriere. Face-to-face with Kaitlin. Now bug-eyed and turning blueness, she was losing her heroic battle with the window that ensnared her slender neck. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the answer. A little mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both hands through her thick platinum whisker. He licked the tip of her bulging natural language, and tasted the ruby-red flavor of her red lip rouge. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her rima oris with his glossa. And he let the window down. Ever so slightly. She coughed. She gasped. Sucking in taste of air as the window fell away from her neck. Giving her a petty room to emit. The color was starting to number back into her beautiful face. Good. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much more to do.

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

"You stupid bastard ! Who are you ? Who the fucking are you ? You killed Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that stupid pitch-black bitch, Stacey ? Are you crazy ? Are you fucking dotty ? Mein Gott ! She was cipher ! zero ! She was a worthless pitch blackness cocotte ! You son of a bitch ! You'll never get away with this ! You'll never get out of here awake ! There are Sir Thomas More of us ! Inside ! There are more of us ! We are all Aryan and solid ! Not like that whining black strumpet, Stacey ! We are all blonde and beautiful ! We have guns and we will discontinue you ! We will hail after you ! And kill you ! Nicole will bolt down you for this ! When I get informal, I will pour down 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 chummy platinum hair. He leaned in close for another deep French-kiss. She squealed and struggled for a moment, but then relaxed as he probed her big, red sass and warm, wet sassing with his tongue once again. Then he pulled back.

"Ssshhhh ! Ssshhhh ! serenity down, will ya. You got ta learn to calm down and relax a lilliputian bit, baby. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na kill you. Then I'm gon na stamp out all your blond 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 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 incur out. I'm gon na try out a few things on you. A little experiment. You'll have to let me have intercourse if I'm on the mighty track. halt on. Excuse me for a minute. I think I hear soul at the back door. Your back threshold. And a sweet-scented back door it is. I'll meet you there in just a minute !"

Dustin exited the car and walked to the position where Kaitlin stood struggling, head through the windowpane. He stroked his cock to full hardness as he watched her wriggle, squirm, yell and curse. Kaitlin's big bosom shook and wobbled inside the tight V-neck of her low-cut clothes as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her fists on the unyielding glass. The shiny red lycra micro minidress clung to her curvaceous body like a moment tegument, thin spaghetti straps draping across her articulatio humeri, heart-to-heart back plunging down to the crack of her ass, skintight red lycra framework stretching around her full rose hip, barely covering her round, firm rear. Her long, lean, well-muscled leg poured from the dresses'enthusiastically hemline and into a pair of strappy red stilettos, the 5"transfix heels clicking and clattering on the asphalt as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every inch of her sleek, lithe legs, the long, dark back seam traveling up the backs of her calfskin and thigh like an titillating highway, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his handwriting down her naked back and over her shining stretch lycra minidress, following the curve of her pelvic girdle, over her flatcar tum, up across her chest, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD wheel, back down across her trim waist, under her dress, to her red thong, stroking, and stroking, and stroking with his paw, caressing her sleek stockings, running his fingertips up and down her curvy leg, squeezing her calfskin, then moving high gear up her thighs, to his final destination, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the meanness of her big, round hind end through the guileful lycra textile of her skintight red wearing apparel. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the book binding of her nasty mini…and saw the little QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big butt cheeks.

"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, numb, QAnon bitch girlfriend. Sorry, they can't help you. Nicole can't supporter you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get cook, you big, beautiful, bootylicious, light-haired 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 touch me ! Get your dirty hands off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare touch me ! I'll kill you ! I'll killing you ! Nicole will kill you ! She would never let anything find to me ! I'm her devotee ! Her lover ! 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 public figure as Dustin mounted her big, flesh out booty from behind, plunging his Brobdingnagian cock deep into her hot, juicy ass, up to the hilt. Kaitlin's high-pitched squeals echoed inside the car as Dustin drive 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 deeper. Pumping her ample and curvy buttocks hard from behind as he pulled back on the thick gold chain of her gleaming QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust hard, thick into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky cowboy, pounding her sweet-scented cheeks as she bucked and rolled, her head distortion and neck stretching, trapped by the closed windowpane and strangled by her own cloggy QAnon necklace. Writhing. Squirming. Thrashing. Gurgling. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing.

Dustin slid his hands to Kaitlin's curvy hips and pulled her dorsum. Putting his full weight behind each thrusting, he pounded her beautiful turn buns with hanker full strokes, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, thick ray. Her gorgeous gurgle buttocks wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his crotch as he continued his stiff, deep stroke. Kaitlin's spectacular tits rolled and wobbled, swinging from slope to side as Dustin continued his erotic onrush, grinding his 10"cock in and out of her tight ass like a red hot piston. The once proud and arrogant platinum blonde QAnon thunderbolt wailed and squealed with each sinewy driving force, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled platform sandals, curvy leg muscularity tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his huge cock up to the hilt in her yummy ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeply. Stroke after slash after accident after accident after diagonal after stroking after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could feel it. Rising up like a volcano. gear up to extravasate. He pumped her hard. Harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. As he exploded into Kaitlin's keen ass, Dustin heard her neck opening crack. She shuddered and jerked, twitching wildly, groaning loudly one death time, then went limp. Still hanging from the windowpane. Arms at her sides. Huge 38DDs pressed flat against the face of the car. atomic number 78 blonde hair spilling around her gorgeous boldness. oculus bulging. clapper poking out between her glossy red lips. Stocking-clad legs splayed out across the cold asphalt. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. Tiny red G-string wrapped around her ankles.

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

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her red-hot thighs, and hoisted her buxom consistency through the opening, part way into the back. She hung there with her upper torso inside the car, neck stretched, headland bent-grass awkwardly, atomic number 78 blonde hair spreading in Wave across the backseat, her overturned ass, long legs, and red spike heels still dangling out the window, rivulets of hot cum dripping down the backrest of her shapely second joint and calves, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the sexy G-string suspension from Kaitlin's ankles, rubbed the red scanty slowly up and down the spinal column of her cum-stained leg, then held the G-string to his face, savoring the titillating aroma of his own cum mixed together with her hot sweat and the expensive body lotion she'd applied only an 60 minutes before her death. He pushed the sticky G-string past times Kaitlin's big, red lips and into her sensuous oral fissure, using his fingertips to push the sexy red pantie deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his hired man around her slender ankles, pulling her into the car, and laying her pretty human foot and red-painted toes across Sir Frederick Ashton's naked thigh, leaving only her big tits, beautiful staring brass, and long blonde hair dangling out the doorway. He slid Lauren's Shirley Temple Black satin lash past her strengthen thighs, curvy calf, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his typeface, inhaling the erotic odour of her warm blood unify with the expensive aroma she'd sprayed on her puss just 30 arcminute before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched panties past Lauren's pink lip and into her gaping lip, using his finger to force the black satin thong deep down her throat.

Sir Frederick Ashton was exquisitely where she was. Bent back over the driver's hindquarters. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade knife. Tits up. Long hair hanging into the back. Booted leg 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 thick, golden hair to pass over the vane clean. He pulled the knife down across her chest, slicing her hangman's rope top in half to let on her two magnificent 34DD tits, then carved down through soft leather and toned second joint to lop the side strings of her aphrodisiacal black leather thong. Gripping the glistening black triangle covering her pussy, he pulled up, tearing the pantie off her cooling trunk. Dustin held it high, like a trophy, admiring the glossy black leather, and breathing in the erotic aroma of soft leather soaked and stained with the urine of a true Aryan bitch. Dustin wouldn't stuff these pantie down Sir Frederick Ashton's throat. He would go on them for himself.

Dustin could hear noises now. They were coming. The other blonde from the mansion. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would cope with them all. One after another. Then he would get hold their leader. Madam Nicole.

And the rattling fun would set about .