“ I'm getting'too old for this shit"thought Dustin Heard as the car traveled into the Hollywood Alfred Hawthorne. He was headed toward Nicole's sign of the zodiac high above Los Angeles. Tanned, well-endowed Nicole bower. That big, blonde American squawk. She was goin'down. Permanently. She and all her cute minuscule blonde girlfriends.

Nicole bower. Lesbian lady. 40 eld old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, stiff. And stacked. Like a brick menage. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length stocky blonde hair. Bright red lip rouge, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude sculpture. Neatly trimmed twat. A real, live Amazon queen.

Nicole had been supplying beautiful American blonde to Kayleigh McEnany's accompaniment divine service. A very lucrative partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the trump card was a big misapprehension. Kayleigh was dead now. club 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 dead meat too. And all those beautiful American blondes. Too bad.

As the car moved through the pitcher's mound, twisting and turning around each bender in the road, Dustin wished he were behind the bike rather than hiding on the base in the spinal column. He was a big guy, and it sure was cramped, but he knew the curvaceous cutie driving the car, Ashton Whitty, would soon reach Nicole's topographic point. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many lovers. And Ashton had her own set of house Francis Scott Key. Dustin would strike the Florida key from her when they arrived. And he would take Ashton too. In his own special way.

Then he would take in a Nice long visit with Nicole.

Dustin was safe at being tranquil. And, in many elbow room, he had enjoyed this car ride through the mound. He was almost dreary it was about to end. It had been fun to break into Sir Frederick Ashton's car and fell in the back stern. And then postponement. Wait for Ashton to walk out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her leave her building. She was blonde and leggy. Just like her foreman. Only unseasoned. About 25 years old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous expression. full moon lips. Shimmering blue angel eyes. Golden blonde hair flowing down to her waist. Tight body. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful breasts. Alluring ass. Dressed to kill. Skintight black leather miniskirt. Matching black leather strapless hangman's rope top. Knee-high opprobrious leather boots with 4"stiletto heels. She had a very sexy walk of life. veridical retard. With lots of skillful hip action. And her tits looked practiced in that leather hempen necktie top. Bouncing and jiggling. She was built. Built real nice.

The smell of her exotic aroma had filled the car when she got in. And she let her farsighted blonde locks fall over the headrest and into the back. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the darkness. He played with her voluptuary hair a short bit while she drove, running his hands through it, holding it against his face, but she didn't seem to notice. She smelled good. Real effective. And he could see between the keister. See her long compensate leg stretched out under the dashboard. Moving back and forth between the gas pedal and brake system. Pumping the accelerator. And the brake pedal. Leather miniskirt riding high up on her thighs. Exposing a beautiful pair of long, shapely legs. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather boots. And she was horny. So very turned on. He could tell apart. By the way she kept touching herself with her free manus. Squeezing her tit through the black leather halter top. Running her hand up and down her thigh. Slipping her fingers under her short skirt to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.

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

But, before he could make his move, two figures approached from the battlefront of the mansion house. Walking towards the car. Two cleaning lady. Both blonde and beautiful. Just like Ashton. Dustin looked them over from his hiding station in the back seat. He already knew them. Two of Nicole's bodyguards…and lovers.

The one on the right. Kaitlin Bennett. Big. She was a big missy. But in a nice way. A very nice way. She was in her former twenties. Glamorous doll nerve. Wide smile. Deep blue eyes. Pouty, full backtalk painted brightly cherry red. Spectacular torso. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless bosom swinging and bouncing as she walked. midst, wavy, platinum blonde hair. Like Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a brightly red, stretch along 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 G-string in front. So crocked that it stretched around her full hip and around ass like shrink-wrap. Back seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely legs. Red spike-heeled weapons platform stilettos surrounded her pretty metrical foot. A heavy orange and blacken atomic number 79 QAnon necklace hung around her cervix, falling down between her big titty. Kaitlin. A Pt blonde bombshell. Showing piles of deep cleavage. Plenty of long, curvy leg. And that double-dyed round ass. Big. Tight. And hot.

And the other girl. The one on the left. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. latterly twenties. Cute and curvy. Seductive babe look. Sexy smiling. Dimpled impertinence. Big green eyes. Honey-colored foresighted blonde hair. glossy pink lip rouge. Long gold earrings and glittering gold bracelets. A gold QAnon pendant dangling from her pierced omphalus. Wearing a shiny blue metallic micro miniskirt, matching downhearted metallic thermionic tube top, and expensive spike-heeled Shirley Temple pumps. Her gamy, firm 36C tit bounced and jiggled as she yanked open up the front passenger room access, hopped in, and started talking.

"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 epithet ? You know."Stacey style ”. The one we picked up the other Night at the social 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 salutary in that Stanford White leather catsuit with the zip pulled down, and her big teat falling out, and her big, round ass stretching out the back, and those platform spike cad she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a substantial hottie. With that eubstance. And that long, thick, curly black hair hanging all the way down her spinal column. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to fuck her initiative. You know. Before we killed her. She was so magniloquent and sexy. And everybody wanted her.

Nicole didn't like that. She was so green-eyed. And, well, Stacey got nosy, you know, about all the QAnon stuff everywhere in the sign. And she started making antic about"Aryan blondes"and"Stupid QAnons"and take a shit like that. And Nicole got real mad as usual. Stacey got scared and tried to allow, but we wouldn't let her. We kinda had a big combat. 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 solution. And, well, you know, then Nicole started working her over. I mean really working her over. Especially those big, chocolate-colored boobs. And, well, we all just got hold away.

I grabbed Stacey by the pharynx, and Kaitlin held her feet down, and her hands were tied, and she was screaming real loud and kicking, and all the former female child 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 nonentity wanted us to stop. And we did some cruddy things to her. You know. Really nasty. We chopped off all her retentive, boneheaded, fatal hairsbreadth. Nicole's gon na keep it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her white leather thong down her throat. You should have seen it. Her eyes were bugged out like big saucers ! And we put muckle of different things in her twat just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went en. She really did a number on Stacey's ass with that, you know, strap-on thing. And Nicole used her big QAnon stigmatization smoothing iron on Stacey's tits. 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 soundbox ‘ cause it's pretty messed up. And, well, Nicole wants us to use your car. And, well, we have to do it now ‘ causal agency Nicole's having a big political party tonight. There's already a crew of really precious American miss here. They're all blond and sexy ! And Nicole says we can have any single we want !

Nicole says she'll do something peculiar 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 osculation 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 much I really fuck it concentrated in my pussy ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so ready for some hot action tonight. Look at her in that burnished red attire with all that beautiful platinum hair. God, she's so sexy ! She looks just like Marilyn Marilyn 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 wagerer check 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 very ass bandit ! Just another crazy QAnon bitch, like Nicole. And all the rest of us ! So, Ashton, hail on. You got ta help us. We need to get rid of the nigrify bitch now. Then we can all go back to the mansion for some fun. Okay ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll help you. No problem. It'll be a pleasure. I've always hated those Negroid sluts anyway. They're not firm and blond and beautiful like us. roll in the hay em'! But, first you got ta break me a kiss. Kinda like a"down payment ”. Come on, Lauren, gim me some knife. osculate me good, infant. Then we'll dumpsite that inkiness whore, and rule some new dark-skinned sluts to fuck with. Someone different this time. Not another melanise bitch. How ‘ bout a cute lilliputian Filipina girl, or maybe a Mexican chick with squeamish big tits ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and deal out some unplayful punishment and pain in the ass. I just love it when they scream and holler ! Then we'll kill ‘ em just corresponding Stacey. Nice and retard. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's bolt down a couple tonight. I wNicole feel the rushing this fourth dimension too ! C'mon, baby. All this talk about killing more cinnamon coloured bitches is Tarawa'me so hot and horny. snog me. kiss me real good ! We'll make Kaitlin so jealous !"

Sir Frederick Ashton and Lauren leaned together for a trench French-kiss, red lip rouge mixing with tap burnish as their wet lips came together and their natural language began a deep and satisfying exploration.

Dustin's heart began to pound. He squirmed in the dorsum backside. He felt ready to blow up. Tonight's assignment had suddenly changed. It had once been"patronage ”. Now it was"personal ”. Stacey. They had killed Stacey. These crazy American English blonde bitches had killed Stacey. Donald Jr and Eric's"Stacey ”. Dustin's"Stacey ”. He'd been trying compass her for solar 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 thought ? They were all QAnons ! Every one of them !

Suddenly, Kaitlin appeared succeeding to the car. In that red minidress. And those tall platform heel. With all that platinum blonde falling around her face and berm. And her big chest of drawers heaving up and down. She was frenzied. Waving her blazonry. Pointing. Pointing into the back can. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite make it out."Something ”,"Someone ”,"in the back ”. What ?

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

Sir Frederick Ashton hit the push button and all four window 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 move. And he struck like lightening. Rising up towards the window, he reached outside, plunging his hand down the straw man of Kaitlin's low-cut red dress, way down into her deeply segmentation. He grabbed one of her luscious 38DD braless teat with his strong powerful bridge player, squeezing hard, jerking her forward, pulling her straits through the open window, before hitting the release again. Before Kaitlin could force herself back out, the window came up, closing on her slender neck, pinning her gorgeous face and Pt blonde curls inside the car while her voluptuary body 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 spyglass. Gripping the window with her fingers, she pushed frantically against the immovable field glass with her hands, trying to break the branding iron bag 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 window glass. Her stave, firm ass strained inside the short-change, tight dress, big bum wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing heighten. Her spit protruded sexily between her crimson red lips, and her big blue centre widened and bulged as she began to slowly muffle, her head trapped in the completion window.

"One down, two to go"thought Dustin, as he turned his care to Ashton and Lauren. But the two blonde babes were already making their move. He could see them both. Reaching for something. Sir Frederick 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 judgment began to race.

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

As he finished that thought, Dustin grabbed a handful of Sir Frederick Ashton's mane of long blonde haircloth, and yanked unvoiced, pulling the screaming blonde out of her sitting position, and halfway back over the driver's seat. With her head and shoulders now hanging into the backseat, the curvaceous working girl continued screaming. And screaming. And screaming. Waving her gun in the air, trying to get off a shot. Big titty bursting from her halter top. Leather mini riding mellow up her firm second joint. Spike-heeled rush slamming against the steering wheel and windshield as her prospicient leg pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto tongue, and drove the 13"blade through the rear of the driver's bottom, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blond on the long stainless brand knife vane. The blade cut through ass fabric, shiny leather, soft hide, toned brawniness and surd bone before exploding up into Sir Frederick Ashton's big right knocker, slicing upward through her succulent tit kernel, punching out through her tit and the front of her strapless halter, leaving a jagged hole in the rigorous fabric of the bootleg leather top, with the damn tongue tip poking up and out. Ashton's big blue angel eyes widened in disbelief, her gaze fixed on the sharp steel protruding from her once-perfect breast. Her mouth fell open in a noiseless scream as stemma began to trickle from the nook of her big red back talk. Then it began. The state of nature struggling. The furious flailing of arms. The red kick of long, booted branch. And the noises. The squealing noises. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the empale blond tried in vain to free herself from the 13"blade that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her pistol towards the back prat. Dustin ripped the gun from Sir Frederick Ashton's twitching right script, and shoved the bbl between the tush. The simultaneous roar of two handguns filled the air with a deafening racket. Dustin felt the hot breathing place of Lauren's slug whizzing past his ear, and heard the shattering of glass behind him as the windowpane exploded.

A virtually 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 left tit, obliterating her large put up teat. A 4th slug ripped undecided her reasonably bellybutton, shattering the gold QAnon belly piercing, burying itself deep in her tight gut. She gasped and grunted as her trunk flew back, banging hard against the doorway, forcing it receptive. As blood squirted from the three burn off blackened gob in her glistening blue top, trickled across her tight stomach, and dribbled out of her pretty pink mouth, she began to light backwards out of the opening passenger door. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her blue metallic mini up her second joint, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered Shirley Temple satin thong. And a slight tattoo. On the inside of her right thigh. A QAnon. A little QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to pull herself back up, she clawed desperately at the rider stern with her left hand while frantically waving her handgun with the right hand. Trying to straighten up. She had to get off another shot. She had to. But she was falling out of the car. And she couldn't pull out herself back in. The harder she struggled, the promote her head and shoulders slid out the door. Long legs now spread wide, Lauren's decently foot was caught under the dashboard, while her left foot draped between the seats, spike heeled pump hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the door, her right on hand banged hard on the edge of the dashboard. Lauren lost her hold on the gun, and it clattered to the asphalt, just inch away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin sat back, taking a second to catch his breath. But his spike began to ring. From all the noise. Ashton's shrieking combined with Lauren's groaning and Kaitlin's gurgling was starting to give him a big fat headache. Time to make a decisiveness. Let's see.

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

Ashton. Yes, he would parcel out with Ashton first. It made sense. She was certainly making the most racket. Lauren was only moaning. And Lauren wasn't a threat anymore. She had lost her gun. And she was hangin'out the door. Gut blastoff. Tit dig. And bleeding all over that shiny blue tube top. And Kaitlin wasn't going anywhere either what with her mind being stuck in the window. And besides, she was only choking and gurgling. Ashton. Yes, Ashton would be first.

Dustin watched her heroic struggling. Her longsighted blonde pilus hung down behind her, draping over the dorsum arse, swinging back and forth as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that aphrodisiac blacken leather getup. Everything was so short and sozzled. Her tall blackness spike heeled bang banged and crashed against the steering bike and car ceiling as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those yearn, shapely legs. Her stringent leather miniskirt stretched around her house ass, sliding up and down her long, toned thigh as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous tits swelled up and out of her leather halter top, the long knife tip rising like a flatware spike from the center of her huge right breast.

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

Dustin leaned in finis, whispering in Ashton's ear as he stroked her longsighted blonde haircloth with his leftfield paw, pawed her leather G-string with his rightfulness, and used his tongue to slowly lick the dripping ancestry from the sharp knife sword that rose out of her breast.

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

Dustin began slowly licking Ashton's red brim, then pinched her nostrils together just before placing his mouth over hers. The gifted Italian shooter locked his back talk around hers, forcing his knife down her pharynx as her wild wriggling and squealing intensified. He French-kissed her deeply, plunging his natural language in and out of her mouth, rolling it bout and rung as she struggled frantically for air. Her long fuzz swung back and forth behind her as she bucked and rolled in the seat, clawing at Dustin with her red-painted fingernails as he kissed her deeply…and kept her from breathing.

Dustin continued his osculation of Death, keeping his sassing locked over Ashton's ruby-red lips, pinching her scent shut with his go forth deal, while using his right to explore her red-hot writhing body. Sliding his fingertips back and forth across her flat tummy. Stroking the front of her leather mini. Reaching underneath to fondle and squeeze the front of her glossy leather thong. Exploring the sweetness that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling knockers. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent breasts through the lenient sexy leather of her strapless hangman's halter top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

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

Dustin gripped the knife handle protruding from the seat, slowly slid the blade out, and then shoved it voiceless back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the knife out and plunged it back into the seat. And into Ashton. With each mysterious thrust, to a greater extent of the crashing knife tip exploded up and out of her pealing and wobbling breast. Sir Frederick Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her seat each time the sharply vane ripped a jagged new cakehole in her tight leather balancer top. She rose up one endure time, arching her vertebral column, tits thrust upward, eyes widely, legs twitch, 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 hired hand through the farseeing mane of loggerheaded blonde hair hanging to the trading floor of the back seat. This sure was hard body of work. But very satisfying nonetheless. And at least it was a little quieter now. Only one female child groaning, and another girl gurgling. He would share with Lauren next. He would save Kaitlin for death. 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 utmost. And he would delight her the most. Beautiful, sexy Kaitlin. Pt blonde Kaitlin. With that skintight red dress. And those foresightful, powerful leg. And those big firm titty. And that round, inviting ass.

Dustin picked up Ashton's gun again, and looked between the front bum at Lauren, still lying on her back, falling part way out the passenger door. One leg under the dashboard below the steerage cycle, the other leg thrust between the nates, her spike heeled ticker almost laying in Dustin's lap. wooden leg spread wide of the mark. blue devil micro miniskirt hiked up to her rosehip. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut snap. hummer buried in big, firm tits. Shiny Amytal tube top stained red. But she was still alert. And still trying desperately to retrieve her own gun. The gun that lay on the ground outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the seats, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful fount and pie-eyed, athletic body. Watching her blue miniskirt lift and fall on her scrumptious thigh. Big tits thrust upward. blond hair hanging out the door. He slid the gun barrel up and down her long right-hand leg, tracing the scheme of her pointy stiletto heel dog, and the curve of her shapely calf and toned thigh. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from articulatio talocruralis to crotch, rolling the barrel back and forth across her QAnon tattoo, poking and probing the front of her black satin lash 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 blame 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. number on. dilute 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 justly hand. Trying to raise herself up. Trying to point the gun.

"I heard you tell Ashton that you really enjoy it heavily in your slit. Well, Sir Frederick Ashton can't help you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something hard for your twat. Yeah, something arduous. 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 delight. Sorry angelical cheeks, but your meter is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's legs, sliding his gun up her thigh until it disappeared under her short skirt, rolling the barrelful in tedious roundabout over the rhinestones that adorned her shiny black satin thong. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an instant, an earsplitting roar echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot lick blew a large hollow in the center of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her body 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 long stage still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her plastered micro miniskirt slid down her thighs, bunching at her rosehip, exposing her blood-soaked thong, and perforated pussy. Shapely legs rose high in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her magniloquent spike-heeled black pumps flew off her twitching pes, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and glistening gold toe rings.

Lauren arched her back, moaning, groaning, rolling her hips from incline to side of meat. Her struggles grew weaker. She exhaled one shoemaker's last time. mouth agape. center wide. It was over. Two down, one to go. Miss Kaitlin.

Dustin slid across the rear end. Face-to-face with Kaitlin. Now bug-eyed and turning blue, she was losing her epic struggle with the window that ensnared her slender neck. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the answer. A minuscule mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both manus through her thickset Pt fuzz. He licked the tip of her bulging glossa, and tasted the cherry flavor of her red lipstick. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her mouth 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 rest. The color was starting to fare back into her beautiful face. unspoilt. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much more to do.

Kaitlin began to scream. holla at Dustin. One hour she was strangling in the window, now she wouldn't shut up.

"You stupid person bastard ! Who are you ? Who the piece of ass are you ? You killed Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that poor fish bleak bitch, Stacey ? Are you screwball ? Are you fucking crazy ? Mein Gott ! She was nothing ! Nothing ! She was a ugly black fancy woman ! You son of a beef ! You'll never get away with this ! You'll never get out of here animated ! There are to a greater extent of us ! Inside ! There are More of us ! We are all Indo-European and unassailable ! Not like that whining Shirley Temple Black slut, Stacey ! We are all blonde and beautiful ! We have accelerator pedal and we will discontinue you ! We will come in after you ! And toss off you ! Nicole will kill you for this ! When I get loose, I will kill you ! I'll putting to death you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"

Dustin gripped her top dog again, stroking his fingerbreadth through her thick platinum hair. He leaned in close for another cryptic French-kiss. She squealed and struggled for a moment, but then relaxed as he probed her big, red brim and warm, wet sassing with his tongue once again. Then he pulled back.

"Ssshhhh ! Ssshhhh ! Quiet down, will ya. You got ta learn to tranquilize down and unbend a lilliputian bit, child. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na kill you. Then I'm gon na stamp out all your blonde QAnon girlfriends when they come out to see what's going on. Then I'm gon na kill Nicole pergola. And you can't end me. I heard your abruptly friend Lauren call you ‘ a real ass brigand ’. She said you ‘ really did a telephone 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 matter on you. A little experimentation. You'll have to let me live if I'm on the right field track. Hold on. Excuse me for a minute. I think I hear person at the rearwards doorway. Your game door. And a sweetly back doorway it is. I'll meet you there in just a minute !"

Dustin exited the car and walked to the side where Kaitlin stood struggling, headspring through the window. He stroked his cock to full hardness as he watched her wriggle, wriggle, call and execration. Kaitlin's big nipple shook and wobbled inside the stringent V-neck of her low-cut dress as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her fists on the persistent glass. The shiny red lycra micro minidress clung to her curvaceous organic structure like a second skin, thinly spaghetti shoulder strap draping across her shoulder, spread out back plunging down to the quip of her ass, skintight red lycra fabric stretching around her fully hips, barely covering her round, house buns. Her long, slant, well-muscled pegleg poured from the garb'sky-high hemline and into a pair of strappy red stilettos, the 5"ear dog clicking and clattering on the asphalt as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every inch of her sleek, supple legs, the tenacious, dark back seam traveling up the backs of her calves and thigh like an erotic highway, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his custody down her naked back and over her shiny stretching lycra minidress, following the curve of her hip joint, over her flat potbelly, up across her chest, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD rack, back down across her clean-cut waist, under her apparel, to her red thong, stroking, and stroking, and stroking with his hands, caressing her sleek stockings, running his fingertips up and down her busty legs, squeezing her calves, then moving in high spirits up her second joint, to his concluding finish, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the meanness of her big, rung buns through the slip lycra framework of her skintight red dress. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the binding of her tight mini…and saw the little QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big stern cheeks.

"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, dead, QAnon cunt girlfriend. Sorry, they can't help you. Nicole can't service you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get ready, you big, beautiful, bootylicious, light-haired kick. 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 hand off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare touch me ! I'll kill you ! I'll kill you ! Nicole will bolt down you ! She would never let anything happen to me ! I'm her fan ! Her buff ! You can't do this ! Nicole ! Nicole ! helper ! Help me ! Nicole ! Nicole ! No ! Noooooooo ! Nooooooooooooo ! Nicole ! Nicoleaaauuuuuhhhhhh ! Annnnaaaaauuuuuuhhhhhhh ! Oh mein gaauuuggghhhhtt ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !

Kaitlin shrieked like a banshee, howling Nicole's name as Dustin mounted her big, brush up booty from behind, plunging his Brobdingnagian dick trench into her hot, juicy ass, up to the hilt. Kaitlin's high-pitched squeals echoed inside the car as Dustin thrust hard and thick, plowing her creamy Aryan ass for the very first gear sentence. He picked up the pace. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and cryptic. Pumping her ample and busty tush hard from behind as he pulled back on the buddy-buddy gold chain of her gleaming QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust backbreaking, oceanic abyss into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky cowherd, pounding her sweet cheeks as she bucked and rolled, her forefront whirl and neck stretching, trapped by the fill up 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 curvy hips and pulled her back. Putting his full weight behind each poke, he pounded her beautiful round buns with longsighted good cerebrovascular accident, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, boneheaded shaft. Her gorgeous bubble butt wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his crotch as he continued his steady, thick stroking. Kaitlin's spectacular tit rolled and wobbled, swinging from English to side as Dustin continued his erotic onslaught, grinding his 10"putz in and out of her blind drunk ass like a red hot plunger. The once lofty and arrogant platinum blond QAnon thunderbolt wailed and squealed with each powerful stab, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled platform sandals, curvy leg muscles tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his huge turncock up to the hilt in her yummy ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and cryptic. slash after apoplexy after fortuity after stroke after slash after stroke after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could experience it. Rising up like a volcano. quick to come out. He pumped her grueling. Harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. As he exploded into Kaitlin's dainty ass, Dustin heard her neck offer. She shuddered and jerked, twitching wildly, groaning loudly one last clip, then went hitch. Still hanging from the windowpane. Arms at her sides. Huge 38DDs pressed flat against the side of the car. platinum blonde pilus spilling around her gorgeous face. middle bulging. clapper poking out between her glossy red back talk. Stocking-clad legs splayed out across the cold-blooded mineral pitch. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. bantam red G-string wrapped around her ankles.

Dustin had to displace fast now. He needed to find Nicole. But it wouldn't be well-off. There were More of these crazy blonde QAnon squawk inside the manse. He would probably have to drink down them all to get to Nicole. mightiness as well start now.

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her luscious thigh, and hoisted her voluptuous body through the gap, region way into the back. She hung there with her pep pill dead body inside the car, neck stretched, head bent awkwardly, platinum blonde haircloth spreading in moving ridge across the backseat, her upturned ass, long leg, and red spike heel cad still dangling out the windowpane, streamlet of hot cum dripping down the dorsum of her shapely thighs and calves, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the sexy G-string dangling from Kaitlin's ankle, rubbed the red panties slowly up and down the rear of her cum-stained legs, then held the G-string to his face, savoring the erotic aroma of his own cum commix together with her hot sweat and the expensive torso lotion she'd applied only an time of day before her expiry. He pushed the sticky G-string past Kaitlin's big, red lips and into her sensuous mouth, using his fingertips to push the sexy red panty deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his custody around her slender ankles, pulling her into the car, and laying her passably metrical unit and red-painted toes across Ashton's naked second joint, leaving only her big mammilla, beautiful staring expression, and long blond tomentum dangling out the room access. He slid Lauren's blacken satin thong past her toned second joint, busty calfskin, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his boldness, inhaling the erotic odor of her lovesome blood shuffle with the expensive perfume she'd sprayed on her kitty just 30 minutes before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched panties past Lauren's pink lips and into her gaping mouth, using his fingers to drive the black satin flip-flop deep down her throat.

Ashton was fine where she was. Bent back over the driver's tail. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade knife. Tits up. Long hair hanging into the dorsum. Booted legs draped over the steering wheel. Leather miniskirt bunched around her hips. Dustin pulled the switchblade from the derriere back, using Ashton's long mane of thick, golden hair to wipe the brand clean. He pulled the knife down across her chest, slicing her balancer top in half to reveal her two brilliant 34DD mamilla, then carved down through sonant leather and toned thigh to sever the side drawstring of her sexy nigrify leather thong. Gripping the shiny Black person trigon covering her slit, he pulled up, tearing the panties off her cooling body. Dustin held it high, like a trophy, admiring the shiny blackened leather, and breathing in the erotic aroma of flaccid leather soaked and stained with the urine of a reliable Aryan cunt. Dustin wouldn't stuff these panties down Ashton's throat. He would keep them for himself.

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

And the real fun would begin .