Sexual Deviltry Of Trump Card Apologists : Nicole Arbour, Kaitlin Bennett, Ashton Whitty And Lauren Southern
Cheating, Erotica, Group-Sex“ I'm getting'too old for this dirt"thought Dustin Heard as the car traveled into the Hollywood Hills. He was headed toward Nicole's mansion house senior high above Los Angeles. Tanned, busty Nicole Arbour. That big, light-haired American beef. She was goin'down. Permanently. She and all her cute lilliputian blonde girlfriends.
Nicole Arbour. Lesbian madam. 40 years old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, strong. And stacked. Like a brick family. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length thick blonde hair's-breadth. Bright red lip rouge, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude. Neatly trimmed pussy. A real, live Amazon queen.
Nicole had been supplying beautiful American blond to Kayleigh McEnany's see help. A very lucrative partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the Trump was a big misapprehension. Kayleigh was dead now. Orders from Donald Jr and Eric. Now it was Nicole's turn. Big, beautiful, light-haired Nicole. She should deliver stuck to whoring on her own. Joining up with Kayleigh really made Donald Jr and Eric very angry. Soon Nicole would be utterly meat too. And all those beautiful American language blond. Too bad.
As the car moved through the hills, twisting and turning around each curvature in the road, Dustin wished he were behind the wheel rather than hiding on the floor in the cover. He was a big guy, and it sure was cramped, but he knew the bosomy cutie driving the car, Ashton Whitty, would soon reach Nicole's place. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many devotee. And Ashton had her own set of house keys. Dustin would exact the Francis Scott Key from her when they arrived. And he would choose Ashton too. In his own special way.
Then he would have a nice long visit with Nicole.
Dustin was skilful at being quiet. And, in many ways, he had enjoyed this car ride through the Benny Hill. He was almost distressing it was about to end. It had been fun to break into Ashton's car and pelt in the back buns. And then postponement. postponement for Ashton to walk out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her farewell her construction. She was blonde and leggy. Just like her boss. Only young. About 25 years old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous face. full lips. Shimmering drear eye. Golden blonde hair flowing down to her waist. Tight body. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful breasts. Alluring ass. Dressed to kill. Skintight contraband leather miniskirt. Matching black leather strapless halter top. knee-deep black leather iron heel with 4"stiletto dog. She had a very sexy manner of walking. Real slow. With lots of prissy hip activity. And her knocker looked good in that leather halter top. Bouncing and jiggling. She was built. Built real nice.
The smell of her exotic essence 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 darkness. He played with her luxuriant tomentum a petty bit while she drove, running his hands through it, holding it against his face, but she didn't seem to notice. She smelled trade good. Real proficient. And he could see between the prat. See her long right leg stretched out under the splasher. Moving back and forth between the gas pedal and brakes. Pumping the accelerator. And the brake pedal. Leather miniskirt riding high up up on her thigh. Exposing a beautiful pair of long, shapely legs. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather boots. And she was horny. So very corneous. He could separate. By the way she kept touching herself with her free helping hand. Squeezing her boob through the dim leather haltere top. Running her hand up and down her second joint. Slipping her fingers under her short dame to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.
Suddenly, the car slowed. And turned into a farseeing driveway. Moving slowly, up a steep James Jerome Hill, towards the front end of a big house. It was more like a mansion. Fancy. Very envision. Surrounded by tree diagram. oceanic abyss in the Hollywood Hills. It was clip to bring the keys from Ashton.
But, before he could make his motion, two public figure approached from the front of the mansion house. Walking towards the car. Two women. Both blond 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 twenty. glamourous dolly face. Wide grinning. oceanic abyss dismal center. Pouty, broad lips painted bright cherry red. prominent torso. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless breasts swinging and bouncing as she walked. Thick, wavy, platinum blonde hair. Like Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a promising red, stretch lycra, micro minidress with a cryptic V-neckline, spaghetti strap, and a plunging open back. So short that it barely covered her tight buns in back and her red G-string in movement. So mingy that it stretched around her full hips and round ass like shrink-wrap. back seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely legs. Red spike-heeled political program stilettos surrounded her moderately foot. A wakeless Orange and black gold QAnon necklace hung around her neck, falling down between her big tits. Kaitlin. A platinum blond bombshell. Showing mess of deep segmentation. mickle of long, bosomy leg. And that unadulterated round ass. Big. Tight. And hot.
And the other little girl. The one on the left field. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. Late twenties. Cute and curvy. Seductive baby face. Sexy grin. Dimpled impertinence. Big green eyes. Honey-colored prospicient blond hair. glossy pink lipstick. Long gold earrings and glittering gold bracelet. A gold QAnon pendent dangling from her pierced bellybutton. Wearing a shiny dreary metallic micro miniskirt, matching blasphemous metal thermionic vacuum tube top, and expensive spike-heeled ignominious pumps. Her eminent, firm 36C tits bounced and jiggled as she yanked unresolved the front end rider room access, hopped in, and started talking.
"Sir Frederick Ashton. Listen Ashton. We've got a problem. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another inkiness girl. What was her figure ? You know."Stacey Dash ”. The one we picked up the other 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 body. Stacey looked so good in that bloodless leather catsuit with the zip pulled down, and her big tits falling out, and her big, round ass stretching out the back, and those platform spike hound she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a really hottie. With that physical structure. And that long, midst, curly black hairsbreadth hanging all the way down her back. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to have it off her foremost. You know. Before we killed her. She was so improbable 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 jokes about"Aryan blondes"and"pillock QAnons"and shit like that. And Nicole got actual mad as usual. Stacey got scared and tried to depart, but we wouldn't let her. We kinda had a big engagement. You know. Then we held her down, and stripped off that sexy leather kit, and tied her up. Well, then Nicole started asking her mess of questions, and Stacey wouldn't solvent. 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 expect away.
I grabbed Stacey by the throat, and Kaitlin held her human foot down, and her hands were tied, and she was screaming real loud and kicking, and all the early young woman 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 filthy thing to her. You know. Really nasty. We chopped off all her tenacious, compact, sinister hair. Nicole's gon na celebrate it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her white leather thong down her pharynx. You should have seen it. Her eye were bugged out like big saucers ! And we put scores of dissimilar thing in her pussy just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went testicle. She really did a bit 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 deal. And it just seemed to go on forever. And we, you know, killed her. Now we have to get rid of the eubstance ‘ cause it's pretty messed up. And, well, Nicole wants us to use your car. And, well, we have to do it now ‘ case Nicole's having a big party tonight. There's already a crowd of really cute American little girl here. They're all blonde and sexy ! And Nicole says we can own any ones we want !
Nicole says she'll do something special for you if you help us. She knows how horny you are, and how very much you like French-kissing ! cum on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll kiss you hanker and slow, with sight of knife, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my cunt if you want. You know how much I really screw it hard in my cunt ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so make for some hot action tonight. Look at her in that shiny red frock with all that beautiful platinum hair. God, she's so aphrodisiacal ! She looks just like Marilyn Monroe ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather miniskirt ‘ cause it makes your cigarette facial expression hot ! She really wants you bad tonight. She told me so. But you better catch out. She'll get you drunk and try to do your ass with her strap-on when you're too desolate to say no ! Just like she did with Stacey. She's a tangible ass bandit ! Just another half-baked QAnon squawk, like Nicole. And all the remainder of us ! So, Ashton, descend on. You got ta supporter us. We need to get rid of the dim bitch now. Then we can all go back to the manse for some fun. OK ?"
"Sure, Lauren. I'll supporter you. No problem. It'll be a pleasure. I've always hated those dark sluts anyway. They're not strong and blonde and beautiful like us. nookie em'! But, first you got ta break me a osculation. Kinda like a"down payment ”. Come on, Lauren, gim me some tongue. Kiss me good, baby. Then we'll dump that pitch-black woman of the street, and happen some new dark-skinned sluts to jazz with. Someone dissimilar this clock time. Not another black bitch. How ‘ bout a cute little Filipina young lady, or maybe a Mexican wench with courteous big bosom ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and deal out some serious penalisation and pain. I just love it when they scream and holloa ! Then we'll kill ‘ em just comparable Stacey. Nice and slow. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's kill a couple tonight. I wNicole feel the rush this time too ! C'mon, sister. All this talking about killing more cinnamon-colored cunt is Tarawa'me so hot and horny. buss me. snog me real good ! We'll make Kaitlin so covetous !"
Ashton and Lauren leaned together for a recondite French-kiss, red lipstick mixing with pink burnish as their wet back talk came together and their clapper began a deep and square exploration.
Dustin's sum began to pound. He squirmed in the back up ass. He felt ready to explode. Tonight's assignment had suddenly changed. It had once been"business sector ”. Now it was"personal ”. Stacey. They had killed Stacey. These brainsick American language blond bitches had killed Stacey. Donald Jr and Eric's"Stacey ”. Dustin's"Stacey ”. He'd been trying reaching her for sidereal 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, Sir Frederick Ashton, Lauren, and Kaitlin. They would pay too. Who would cause thought ? They were all QAnons ! Every one of them !
Suddenly, Kaitlin appeared future to the car. In that red minidress. And those tall program heels. With all that platinum blonde falling around her expression and shoulder joint. And her big breast 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 create it out."Something ”,"somebody ”,"in the backward ”. What ?
"What the roll in the hay is she talking about ? Ashton, roll the Windows down ”.
Ashton hit the button and all four window lowered. Kaitlin was screaming.
"There's soul in the vertebral column of your car ! In the backseat ! There's a guy in the backseat of your caaaaarrrrrr ! Ahhhhhhhhh ! Nooooooo ! Let go of meeee ! Nooounnngggghhh !"
Dustin had already made his move. And he struck like lightening. Rising up towards the window, he reached outside, plunging his deal down the strawman of Kaitlin's low-cut red frock, way down into her cryptic cleavage. He grabbed one of her luscious 38DD braless tits with his strong right hand, squeezing unvoiced, jerking her forward, pulling her head through the open window, before hitting the button again. Before Kaitlin could displume herself back out, the window came up, closing on her slender neck, pinning her gorgeous case and atomic number 78 blond scroll inside the car while her voluptuary dead body and long stocking-clad legs writhed outside. Kicking and squirming. Choking and gurgling. Twisting and turning. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. Kaitlin's stiletto-heeled red sandals scraped on the gravel driveway as she stumbled against the English of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted window. Banging her fists on the glass. Gripping the window with her fingerbreadth, she pushed frantically against the immoveable Methedrine with her hands, trying to break the iron grip that the windowpane had on her psyche and neck. Kaitlin's big tits spilled from the V-neck of her red minidress, flattening against the insensate windowpane field glass. Her beat, firm ass strained inside the short, tight dress, big bun wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing intensified. Her spit protruded sexily between her ruby red lips, and her big Amytal eyes 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 Ashton and Lauren. But the two blonde infant 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 handguns. And turning towards the back fanny. Dustin's mind began to race.
"Shit, an hour ago I thought these American chicks were all just a bunch of high-class street girl. What's up with all the fucking guns ? And all this QAnon shit ?"
As he finished that thought, Dustin grabbed a fistful of Ashton's mane of long blonde hair, and yanked severely, pulling the screaming blond out of her sitting position, and halfway back over the driver's bum. With her top dog and shoulders now hanging into the backseat, the voluptuous whore continued screaming. And screaming. And screaming. Waving her gun in the air, trying to get off a shot. Big bosom bursting from her hangman's halter top. Leather mini riding high up her firm thigh. Spike-heeled boot slamming against the steering wheel and windscreen as her farseeing wooden leg pumped and kicked.
Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"blade through the rear of the driver's seat, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blonde on the farsighted chromium steel steel tongue blade. The steel cut through butt cloth, bright leather, soft skin, toned muscle and hard bone before exploding up into Ashton's big right breast, slicing upward through her lush tit meat, punching out through her tit and the front of her strapless halter, leaving a jagged yap in the blotto fabric of the black leather top, with the bloody knife tip poking up and out. Ashton's big blue eyes widened in skepticism, her gaze fixed on the sharp vane protruding from her once-perfect breast. Her mouth fell opened in a noiseless riot as blood began to trickle from the corners of her big red brim. Then it began. The idle struggling. The furious flailing of arms. The crimson kicking of long, booted legs. And the noises. The squealing noises. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the transfix blond tried in vain to free herself from the 13"steel that kept her stuck to the seat.
Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her pistol towards the rearwards seat. Dustin ripped the gun from Ashton's twitching right hand, and shoved the bbl between the butt. The coincidental roar of two shooting iron filled the air with a deafening noise. Dustin felt the hot breath of Lauren's fastball whizzing past his ear, and heard the shattering of glass behind him as the window exploded.
A dear miss for Dustin, but no such portion for Lauren.
Two hot biff drilled into Lauren's jiggling right boob, while another tore through the center of her big leftfield tit, obliterating her turgid erect mammilla. A fourth bullet train ripped open her pretty omphalos, shattering the gold QAnon belly piercing, burying itself mysterious in her tight gut. She gasped and grunted as her body flew back, banging hard against the threshold, forcing it afford. As profligate squirted from the three fire dim holes in her shiny blue-blooded top, trickled across her squiffy tummy, and dribbled out of her moderately pink mouth, she began to devolve backwards out of the opening passenger doorway. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her blue metallic miniskirt up her second joint, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered black satin lash. And a footling tattoo. On the inside of her redress thigh. 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 side arm with the right field. Trying to clean up up. She had to get off another gibe. She had to. But she was falling out of the car. And she couldn't pull herself back in. The harder she struggled, the further her head and shoulders slid out the room access. farseeing legs now circulate wide of the mark, Lauren's correct foot was caught under the dashboard, while her unexpended foot draped between the seats, capitulum heeled pump hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the room access, her compensate hand banged hard on the edge of the dashboard. Lauren lost her grip on the gun, and it clattered to the asphalt, just inch away from her outstretched hand.
Dustin sat back, taking a indorsement to catch his intimation. But his capitulum began to ring. From all the disturbance. Ashton's shrieking combined with Lauren's groaning and Kaitlin's gurgling was starting to give him a big fat concern. fourth dimension to construct a decision. Let's see.
"Eenie, Meanie, Minie, Moe, catch a QAnon bitch by the toe, if she hollers…kill her first."
Ashton. Yes, he would make do with Sir Frederick Ashton first. It made sense. She was certainly making the most noise. Lauren was only moaning. And Lauren wasn't a menace anymore. She had lost her gun. And she was hangin'out the door. Gut guessing. Tit shot. And bleeding all over that glistening depressed tube top. And Kaitlin wasn't going anywhere either what with her principal being stuck in the window. And besides, she was only choking and gurgling. Sir Frederick Ashton. Yes, Sir Frederick Ashton would be first.
Dustin watched her desperate struggling. Her prospicient blonde hair hung down behind her, draping over the book binding seat, swinging back and forth as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that sexy black leather outfit. Everything was so short and plastered. Her tall black spike heeled charge banged and crashed against the steering roulette wheel and car cap as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those longsighted, shapely ramification. Her tight leather mini stretched around her firm ass, sliding up and down her long, strengthen thighs as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous tits swelled up and out of her leather hangman's halter top, the long knife tip rising like a silver gray spike from the center of her immense right breast.
Then he saw it. The tattoo. A niggling QAnon. Just like Lauren's. senior high on the interior of her left second joint. Right side by side to the black leather flip-flop that barely covered her neatly trimmed pussy. He wondered if Kaitlin had one too. A tattoo…and a thong…and a cute puss. He would determine out soon enough.
Dustin leaned in finish, whispering in Ashton's ear as he stroked her hanker blonde whisker with his left manus, pawed her leather thong with his right, and used his tongue to slowly lick the dripping blood from the keen knife brand that rose out of her breast.
"I heard your protagonist Lauren say you like"French-kissing, long and slack ”. You want some now ? Lem me show you my peculiar technique. You'll love it. Every now and then I use it on a beautiful girl like you. It's gon na be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for ya ’. It's a real killer. I guarantee it."
Dustin began slowly licking Ashton's red mouth, then pinched her nostrils together just before placing his mouth over hers. The gifted Italian hitman locked his backtalk around hers, forcing his tongue down her throat as her wild wriggling and squealing intensified. He French-kissed her deeply, plunging his glossa in and out of her lip, rolling it round and beat as she struggled frantically for air. Her longsighted hair swung back and forth behind her as she bucked and rolled in the stern, clawing at Dustin with her red-painted fingernails as he kissed her deeply…and kept her from breathing.
Dustin continued his kiss of death, keeping his sassing locked over Ashton's carmine backtalk, pinching her nose shut with his forget manus, while using his rightfulness to research her toothsome writhing consistence. Sliding his fingertips back and forth across her flat tummy. Stroking the movement of her leather mini. Reaching underneath to fondle and squeeze the strawman of her showy leather G-string. Exploring the sweetness that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling knockers. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent chest through the soft sexy leather of her strapless hemp top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.
"okey, 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 heavy back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the knife out and plunged it back into the nates. And into Ashton. With each deep push, more of the crashing knife tip exploded up and out of her rolling and wobbling breast. Sir Frederick Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her seat each time the needlelike steel ripped a toothed new jam in her crocked leather halter top. She rose up one last time, arching her back, tits thrust upward, eyes encompassing, 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 mouthpiece while running his men through the long mane of thickset blonde haircloth hanging to the floor of the back seat. This sure was difficult work. But very satisfying nonetheless. And at to the lowest degree it was a minuscule quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another girlfriend gurgling. He would look at with Lauren future. He would preserve Kaitlin for finish. She really did front 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 bask her the most. Beautiful, sexy Kaitlin. Platinum blonde Kaitlin. With that skintight red wearing apparel. And those long, powerful peg. And those big business firm nipple. And that troll, inviting ass.
Dustin picked up Ashton's gun again, and looked between the front seats at Lauren, still lying on her back, falling component part way out the rider door. One leg under the splashboard below the steerage wheel, the other leg thrust between the seats, her spike heeled pump almost laying in Dustin's lap. leg spread wide. Blue micro miniskirt hiked up to her hips. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut guess. fastball buried in big, firm tits. Shiny blue tube top stained red. But she was still alive. And still trying desperately to think her own gun. The gun that lay on the earth outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.
Dustin leaned between the seats, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful facial expression and pixilated, athletic body. Watching her blue angel miniskirt rise and fall on her luscious thighs. Big tits thrust upward. blonde hair's-breadth hanging out the threshold. He slid the gun barrel up and down her long proper leg, tracing the outline of her pointy spike dog, and the curve ball of her shapely calf and toned thigh. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from ankle to crotch, rolling the barrel back and forth across her QAnon tattoo, poking and probing the front end of her black satin thong with the still-smoking barrel. Slowly pushing the handgun up and underneath her glossy 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 teacher. 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 short harder. You're almost there. come in on. stretch it out. You're almost there. follow on. Just a little bit more. There. That's it. You've got it !"
Dustin watched her grip the gun with her compensate bridge player. Trying to raise herself up. Trying to indicate the gun.
"I heard you tell Sir Frederick Ashton that you really love it hard in your snatch. well, Ashton can't avail you with that now, babe, but I can. I got something for you. Something hard for your slit. Yeah, something operose. And hot. Real hot. Something that's gon na fill you up. Nice and cryptic. You know. I always aim to please, baby. I aim to please. Sorry sweetness cheeks, but your time is up. This one's for Stacey."
Dustin leaned between Lauren's branch, sliding his gun up her thigh until it disappeared under her unawares skirt, rolling the gun barrel in slow circles over the rhinestones that adorned her glazed black satin G-string. Then he pulled the trigger.
For an heartbeat, an earsplitting bellow echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot bullet blew a tumid pickle in the snapper of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her consistence into the air, throwing her back. With weapons system flailing, legs kicking, and breasts jiggling, she sailed backwards out the threshold, thudding on the ground outside the car with only her farseeing legs still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her tight micro miniskirt slid down her thighs, bunching at her hips, exposing her blood-soaked thong, and perforated pussy. Shapely wooden leg rose high in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her grandiloquent spike-heeled sinister pumps flew off her twitching feet, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and shiny gold toe rings.
Lauren arched her back, moaning, groaning, rolling her pelvis from face to side. Her struggle grew weaker. She exhaled one in conclusion prison term. Mouth agape love. heart wide-cut. It was over. Two down, one to go. young lady Kaitlin.
Dustin slid across the rear. Face-to-face with Kaitlin. Now bug-eyed and turning blue, she was losing her larger-than-life battle 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 hands through her thickheaded Pt hair. He licked the tip of her bulging lingua, and tasted the cherry flavor 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 taste of air as the window fell away from her neck. Giving her a little room to take a breather. The coloration was starting to come 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 bit she was strangling in the window, now she wouldn't shut up.
"You stupid bastard ! Who are you ? Who the screwing are you ? You killed Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that pudding head grim bitch, Stacey ? Are you mad ? Are you fucking unbalanced ? Mein Gott ! She was nix ! Nothing ! She was a worthless smutty fancy woman ! You son of a beef ! You'll never get away with this ! You'll never get out of here alive ! There are Thomas More of us ! Inside ! There are more of us ! We are all Aryan and warm ! Not like that whining black slut, Stacey ! We are all blond and beautiful ! We have guns and we will stop you ! We will come after you ! And wipe out you ! Nicole will kill you for this ! When I get unloose, I will belt down you ! I'll killing you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"
Dustin gripped her head again, stroking his fingers through her thick platinum fuzz. He leaned in finale for another cryptic French-kiss. She squealed and struggled for a mo, but then relaxed as he probed her big, red lips and warm, wet oral fissure 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 lilliputian bit, baby. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na kill you. Then I'm gon na kill all your blond QAnon girlfriends when they come out to see what's going on. Then I'm gon na kill Nicole pergola. And you can't block up me. I heard your dead friend Lauren birdcall you ‘ a tangible ass brigand ’. She said you ‘ really did a issue 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 happen out. I'm gon na try out a few things on you. A picayune experiment. You'll have to let me get it on if I'm on the right track. arrest on. Excuse me for a instant. I think I hear someone at the game threshold. Your back door. And a sweet back door it is. I'll meet you there in just a bit !"
Dustin exited the car and walked to the face where Kaitlin stood struggling, head through the window. He stroked his cock to full hardness as he watched her wriggle, squirm, yell and condemnation. Kaitlin's big nipple shook and wobbled inside the tight V-neck of her low-necked dress as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her clenched fist on the dogged glass. The shining red lycra micro minidress clung to her curvaceous body like a sec skin, slenderize spaghetti strap draping across her berm, open back plunging down to the crack of her ass, skintight red lycra fabric stretching around her good hips, barely covering her turn, house buns. Her long, lean, well-muscled legs poured from the attire'sky-high hemline and into a pair of strappy red stilettos, the 5"capitulum heels clicking and clattering on the asphalt as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every in of her sleek, supple leg, the tenacious, dark back crinkle traveling up the backs of her calfskin and second joint like an titillating highway, leading to paradise.
Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his paw down her naked back and over her shiny stretch lycra minidress, following the curve of her hips, over her savorless tummy, up across her chest, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD rack, back down across her trim waist, under her dress, to her red G-string, stroking, and stroking, and stroking with his deal, caressing her aerodynamic stockings, running his fingertips up and down her curvy branch, squeezing her calves, then moving highschool up her thighs, to his final exam destination, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the denseness of her big, daily round buns through the slick down lycra material of her skintight red dress. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the back of her tight mini…and saw the short QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big butt cheeks.
"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, suddenly, QAnon bitch girlfriends. Sorry, they can't help you. Nicole can't help you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get ready, 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 feeling me ! Get your dirty hands off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare rival me ! I'll kill you ! I'll kill you ! Nicole will kill you ! She would never let anything fall out to me ! I'm her lover ! Her devotee ! You can't do this ! Nicole ! Nicole ! Help ! serve me ! Nicole ! Nicole ! No ! Noooooooo ! Nooooooooooooo ! Nicole ! Nicoleaaauuuuuhhhhhh ! Annnnaaaaauuuuuuhhhhhhh ! Oh mein gaauuuggghhhhtt ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !
Kaitlin shrieked like a banshee, howling Nicole's name as Dustin mounted her big, round plunder 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 thrust hard and deep, plowing her creamy Aryan ass for the very first time. He picked up the pace. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and cryptical. Pumping her ample and busty buttocks hard from behind as he pulled back on the thick Au chain of her glimmer QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust hard, cryptic into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky rodeo rider, pounding her seraphic cheeks as she bucked and rolled, her head overrefinement and neck stretching, trapped by the closed window and strangled by her own heavy QAnon necklace. Writhing. Squirming. Thrashing. Gurgling. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing.
Dustin slid his hands to Kaitlin's curvaceous hips and pulled her back. Putting his full-of-the-moon free weight behind each jabbing, he pounded her beautiful circle keister with foresighted full strokes, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, thick shaft. Her gorgeous gurgle butt end wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his crotch as he continued his becalm, deep stroking. Kaitlin's spectacular breast rolled and wobbled, swinging from face to side as Dustin continued his titillating onset, grinding his 10"hammer in and out of her tight ass like a red hot piston. The once proud and chesty platinum blonde QAnon thunderclap wailed and squealed with each hefty poking, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled political platform sandals, sonsie leg muscles tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his immense stopcock up to the hilt in her delicious ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and deep. shot after apoplexy after stroke after shot after stroke after stroke after stroke.
Dustin was almost there. He could feel it. Rising up like a volcano. set to erupt. He pumped her unvoiced. Harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. As he exploded into Kaitlin's exquisite ass, Dustin heard her neck opening whirl. She shuddered and jerked, twitching wildly, groaning loudly one last time, then went limp. Still hanging from the window. Arms at her side of meat. Huge 38DDs pressed plane against the English of the car. platinum blonde hair spilling around her gorgeous face. Eyes bulging. Tongue poking out between her glossy red brim. Stocking-clad stage splayed out across the cold asphalt. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. Tiny red thong wrapped around her ankles.
Dustin had to move fast now. He needed to find Nicole. But it wouldn't be easy. There were more of these demented blonde QAnon bitches inside the manse. 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 luscious second joint, and hoisted her voluptuous body through the opening, region way into the backbone. She hung there with her upper body inside the car, cervix stretched, caput bent awkwardly, Pt blonde hair spreading in waves across the backseat, her upturned ass, long peg, and red stiletto heel bounder still dangling out the window, rivulets of hot cum dripping down the backs of her shapely thigh and sura, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the sexy G-string dangling from Kaitlin's ankle joint, rubbed the red step-in slowly up and down the backs of her cum-stained legs, then held the thong to his face, savoring the erotic aroma of his own cum blend together with her hot sudor and the expensive body lotion she'd applied only an hour before her death. He pushed the sticky G-string yesteryear Kaitlin's big, red lip and into her sensuous mouth, using his fingertips to drive the sexy red scanty deep down her throat.
Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his handwriting around her slender ankles, pulling her into the car, and laying her passably feet and red-painted toes across Ashton's naked second joint, leaving only her big titty, beautiful staring grimace, and long blond hair dangling out the threshold. He slid Lauren's black satin thong past her chant thigh, curvy calves, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his face, inhaling the erotic aroma of her warm rake mixed with the expensive perfume she'd sprayed on her pussy just 30 minutes before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched scanty past Lauren's pinko rim and into her gaping oral fissure, using his fingers to force the dim satin thong deep down her throat.
Ashton was fine where she was. Bent back over the device driver's seat. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade knife. Tits up. Long hair hanging into the rachis. Booted legs draped over the steering wheel. Leather miniskirt bunched around her hips. Dustin pulled the switchblade from the behind back, using Sir Frederick Ashton's long head of hair of midst, golden hair to pass over the brand clean and jerk. He pulled the knife down across her chest, slicing her haltere top in one-half to discover her two magnificent 34DD boob, then carved down through cushy leather and toned thigh to sever the side strings of her sexy blackness leather thong. Gripping the shiny black triangle covering her kitty-cat, he pulled up, tearing the pantie off her chilling body. Dustin held it highschool, like a trophy, admiring the glistening black leather, and breathing in the erotic odour of diffuse leather soaked and stained with the weewee of a true up Indo-European bitch. Dustin wouldn't stuff these panties down Ashton's throat. He would hold back them for himself.
Dustin could hear noises now. They were coming. The other blondes from the star sign. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would deal with them all. One after another. Then he would find their leader. Madam Nicole.
And the tangible fun would begin .