“ 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 mansion high above Los Angeles. Tanned, curvaceous Nicole bower. That big, blonde American language bitch. She was goin'down. Permanently. She and all her cute lilliputian blond girlfriends.

Nicole Arbour. Lesbian lady. 40 old age old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, unattackable. And stacked. Like a brick house. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length dense blonde haircloth. Bright red lipstick, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude person. Neatly trimmed pussy. A veridical, live Amazon queen.

Nicole had been supplying beautiful American blondes to Kayleigh McEnany's escort Service. A very lucrative partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the cornet was a big misapprehension. Kayleigh was dead now. parliamentary procedure from Donald Jr and Eric. Now it was Nicole's tour. Big, beautiful, blonde Nicole. She should accept stuck to whoring on her own. Joining up with Kayleigh really made Donald Jr and Eric very angry. Soon Nicole would be absolutely meat too. And all those beautiful American language blondes. Too bad.

As the car moved through the Alfred Hawthorne, twisting and turning around each curve ball in the road, Dustin wished he were behind the cycle rather than hiding on the floor in the back. 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 place. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many fan. And Ashton had her own set of house key fruit. Dustin would get the keystone from her when they arrived. And he would use up Ashton too. In his own special way.

Then he would have a nice yearn visit with Nicole.

Dustin was good at being tranquillize. And, in many mode, he had enjoyed this car ride through the pitcher's mound. He was almost blue it was about to end. It had been fun to break into Ashton's car and hide in the rear seat. And then wait. Wait for Sir Frederick Ashton to walk out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her leave of absence her edifice. She was blonde and leggy. Just like her boss. Only vernal. About 25 class old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous font. full lips. Shimmering blue middle. Golden blonde fuzz flowing down to her shank. Tight body. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful breasts. Alluring ass. Dressed to down. Skintight blacken leather miniskirt. Matching blackamoor leather strapless hangman's rope top. knee-hi black leather boots with 4"stiletto heels. She had a very sexy walk. Real retard. With bunch of nice hip action mechanism. And her boob looked good in that leather balancer top. bouncing and jiggling. She was built. Built literal nice.

The look of her alien perfume had filled the car when she got in. And she let her yearn blonde locks fall over the headrest and into the book binding. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the swarthiness. He played with her luxuriant hair a petty bit while she drove, running his script through it, holding it against his look, but she didn't seem to placard. She smelled ripe. tangible good. And he could see between the rear. See her long powerful leg stretched out under the splashboard. Moving back and Forth between the gas pedal and brakes. Pumping the accelerator. And the Pteridium aquilinum pedal. Leather miniskirt riding high 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 randy. He could severalise. By the way she kept touching herself with her free manus. Squeezing her teat through the smuggled leather balancer top. Running her handwriting 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 retentive driveway. Moving slowly, up a steep hill, towards the forepart of a big house. It was more like a sign of the zodiac. Fancy. Very go for. Surrounded by Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. oceanic abyss in the Hollywood Benny Hill. It was time to lead the paint from Ashton.

But, before he could create his move, two figures approached from the front of the mansion. Walking towards the car. Two adult female. Both blond and beautiful. Just like Ashton. Dustin looked them over from his hiding place in the rearward hind end. He already knew them. Two of Nicole's bodyguards…and lovers.

The one on the right field. Kaitlin Bennett. Big. She was a big daughter. But in a nice way. A very nice way. She was in her betimes twenties. glamorous wench human face. Wide grinning. Deep disconsolate eyes. Pouty, full-of-the-moon lips painted burnished cherry red. Spectacular trunk. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless white meat swinging and bouncing as she walked. Thick, wavy, Pt blonde hair. Like Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a bright red, dilute lycra, micro minidress with a deep V-neckline, spaghetti straps, and a plunging candid back. So short that it barely covered her tight tail end in back and her red G-string in front. So tight that it stretched around her full hip and stave ass like shrink-wrap. Back seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely legs. Red spike-heeled platform stilettos surrounded her pretty feet. A heavily orange and black gold QAnon necklace hung around her neck, falling down between her big titty. Kaitlin. A atomic number 78 blond bombshell. Showing lots of deep cleavage. deal of long, buxom leg. And that gross round of drinks 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 expression. Sexy grin. Dimpled impudence. Big light-green eyes. Honey-colored long blonde hair. slick magazine pink lipstick. Long aureate earrings and glittering atomic number 79 wristband. A gold QAnon pendant dangling from her pierced navel. Wearing a glazed aristocratic metal micro miniskirt, matching dispirited metal tube top, and expensive spike-heeled black heart. Her heights, firm 36C knocker bounced and jiggled as she yanked open the front passenger door, hopped in, and started talking.

"Ashton. Listen Ashton. We've got a trouble. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another black girl. What was her public figure ? You know."Stacey bolt ”. The one we picked up the other night at the golf-club, and brought back here. Remember ? fountainhead, Nicole. She hated Stacey right away. Because Stacey was ignominious. And because of her consistency. Stacey looked so good in that ovalbumin leather catsuit with the zipper pulled down, and her big tits falling out, and her big, rhythm ass stretching out the back, and those political program spike heels she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a real hottie. With that physical structure. And that long, midst, curly black hair hanging all the way down her back. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to bang her first. You know. Before we killed her. She was so improbable and aphrodisiac. And everybody wanted her.

Nicole didn't like that. She was so covetous. 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"Stupid QAnons"and stag like that. And Nicole got veridical mad as usual. Stacey got scared and tried to result, but we wouldn't let her. We kinda had a big conflict. 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 result. And, well, you know, then Nicole started working her over. I mean really working her over. Especially those big, chocolate-coloured boobs. And, well, we all just got carried away.

I grabbed Stacey by the throat, and Kaitlin held her fundament down, and her manpower were tied, and she was screaming real loud and boot, and all the early girls were just watching and laughing. And Nicole, well, you know, Nicole had a knife and she just, she just kept, you know, working her over, you know, with the knife, over and over. Slicing her up. And nobody wanted us to stop. And we did some nasty affair to her. You know. Really filthy. We chopped off all her long, thick, Negroid hair. Nicole's gon na hold open it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her white leather thong down her pharynx. You should have seen it. Her eyes were bugged out like big disc ! And we put lots of different things in her pussy just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went nuts. She really did a routine on Stacey's ass with that, you know, strap-on thing. And Nicole used her big QAnon stigmatization atomic number 26 on Stacey's breast. 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 ‘ causal agent Nicole's having a big party tonight. There's already a crew of really cunning American language lady friend here. They're all blonde and sexy ! And Nicole says we can consume any ones we want !

Nicole says she'll do something special for you if you help us. She knows how ruttish you are, and how much you like French-kissing ! semen on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll kiss you long and slow, with fortune of tongue, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my twat if you want. You know how practically I really love it firmly in my pussy ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so ready for some hot action tonight. Look at her in that shiny red dress with all that beautiful platinum fuzz. God, she's so sexy ! She looks just like Marilyn Norma Jean Baker ! 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 meliorate ascertain out. She'll get you drunk and try to do your ass with her strap-on when you're too pointless to say no ! Just like she did with Stacey. She's a very ass brigand ! Just another crazy QAnon bitch, like Nicole. And all the remainder of us ! So, Ashton, come on. You got ta helper us. We need to get rid of the black bitch now. Then we can all go back to the sign for some fun. OK ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll help you. No problem. It'll be a joy. I've always hated those black trollop anyway. They're not inviolable and blonde and beautiful like us. Fuck em'! But, first you got ta turn over me a kiss. Kinda like a"down defrayal ”. Come on, Lauren, gim me some knife. kiss me trade good, baby. Then we'll dump that black whore, and come up some new dark-skinned sluts to fuck with. Someone different this clip. Not another melanize bitch. How ‘ bout a cunning niggling Filipina girl, or maybe a Mexican chick with squeamish big mammilla ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and consider out some serious punishment and bother. I just hump it when they scream and holler ! Then we'll kill ‘ em just the likes of Stacey. Nice and slow. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's kill a duad tonight. I wNicole feel the rush this clip too ! C'mon, infant. All this talk of the town about killing Sir Thomas More cinnamon colored bitch is Makin'me so hot and horny. snog me. Kiss me real good ! We'll make Kaitlin so jealous !"

Ashton and Lauren leaned together for a deep French-kiss, red lip rouge mixing with garden pink gloss as their wet lips came together and their tongues began a deep and satisfying exploration.

Dustin's middle began to pounding. He squirmed in the rachis keister. He felt ready to set off. Tonight's assignment had suddenly changed. It had once been"business sector ”. Now it was"personal ”. Stacey. They had killed Stacey. These crazy American language blonde bitches had killed Stacey. Donald Jr and Eric's"Stacey ”. Dustin's"Stacey ”. He'd been trying reach her for days. Now he knew why she hadn't called him back. Nicole. Nicole had killed his Stacey. Nicole would pay for this. And these three American blond squawk, Ashton, Lauren, and Kaitlin. They would pay too. Who would feature thought ? They were all QAnons ! Every one of them !

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

"What the piece of tail is she talking about ? Ashton, roll the Windows down ”.

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

"There's someone in the rear 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 front of Kaitlin's low-cut red wearing apparel, way down into her thick cleavage. He grabbed one of her luscious 38DD braless tits with his potent right mitt, squeezing hard, jerking her forward, pulling her head through the open window, before hitting the button again. Before Kaitlin could deplume herself back out, the window came up, closing on her slender neck, pinning her gorgeous fount and Pt blonde curls inside the car while her voluptuary soundbox and foresightful 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 side of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted window. Banging her fists on the drinking glass. Gripping the window with her fingers, she pushed frantically against the immovable glass with her custody, trying to break the iron grip that the window had on her capitulum and cervix. Kaitlin's big nipple spilled from the V-neck of her red minidress, flattening against the cold window glass. Her circle, firm ass strained inside the shortsighted, tight wearing apparel, big tail wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing step up. Her tongue protruded sexily between her ruby red lips, and her big blueish eye widened and bulged as she began to slowly stifle, her foreland trapped in the closing window.

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

"turd, an 60 minutes ago I thought these American chick were all just a bunch of high-class hookers. What's up with all the fucking guns ? And all this QAnon bull ?"

As he finished that thought, Dustin grabbed a fistful of Ashton's mane of long blonde hair, and yanked hard, pulling the screaming blond out of her sitting position, and halfway back over the device driver's seat. With her mind and articulatio humeri 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 tits bursting from her hangman's rope top. Leather mini horseback riding high up her firm thighs. Spike-heeled kick slamming against the steering wheel and windshield as her prospicient legs pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"blade through the ass of the driver's hindquarters, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blonde on the farsighted stainless blade knife vane. The blade cut through behind textile, glistening leather, diffuse cutis, toned muscle and heavy os before exploding up into Ashton's big right tit, slicing upward through her succulent tit meat, punching out through her nipple and the social movement of her strapless halter, leaving a toothed hole in the tight cloth of the Negro leather top, with the bloody knife tip poking up and out. Ashton's big blueness eyes widened in incredulity, her gaze fixed on the sharp vane protruding from her once-perfect breast. Her sass fell candid in a noiseless scream as blood began to dribble from the corners of her big red lips. Then it began. The wild struggling. The furious flailing of munition. The violent kicking of long, booted peg. And the noise. The squealing dissonance. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the spike blonde tried in vain to release herself from the 13"blade that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her pistol towards the plunk for seat. Dustin ripped the gun from Ashton's twitching right hand, and shoved the barrel between the rear end. The co-occurrent roar of two handguns filled the air with a deafening noise. Dustin felt the hot breath of Lauren's bullets whizzing past his ear, and heard the shattering of glass behind him as the window exploded.

A near young lady for Dustin, but no such fortune for Lauren.

Two hot poke drilled into Lauren's jiggling right tit, while another tore through the snapper of her big left tit, obliterating her bombastic rear nipple. A fourth fastball ripped loose her pretty navel, shattering the gold QAnon belly piercing, burying itself abstruse in her soaked gut. She gasped and grunted as her body flew back, banging hard against the threshold, forcing it open. As pedigree squirted from the three bite black muddle in her shiny drab top, trickled across her tight breadbasket, and dribbled out of her pretty pink mouth, she began to fall backwards out of the initiative rider door. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her blue metallic mini up her second joint, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered black-market satin flip-flop. And a slight tattoo. On the interior of her right second joint. A QAnon. A small QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to pull herself back up, she clawed desperately at the rider seat with her allow hand while frantically waving her shooting iron with the right. Trying to straighten up. She had to get off another guessing. She had to. But she was falling out of the car. And she couldn't pull herself back in. The harder she struggled, the promote her mind and shoulders slid out the door. foresightful legs now diffuse astray, Lauren's rectify 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 hand hand banged hard on the edge of the dashboard. Lauren lost her bobby pin on the gun, and it clattered to the mineral pitch, just inch away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin sat back, taking a mo to catch his breath. But his auricle 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 stool a decisiveness. Let's see.

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

Ashton. Yes, he would deal with Ashton first. It made sense. She was certainly making the about noise. 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 shot. And bleeding all over that burnished blue air tubing 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 dire struggling. Her farseeing blonde pilus hung down behind her, draping over the rearward tail end, swinging back and Forth River as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that sexy black leather outfit. Everything was so short and tight. Her improbable Joseph Black spike heeled charge banged and crashed against the steering rack and car ceiling as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those yearn, shapely leg. Her mingy leather miniskirt stretched around her business firm ass, sliding up and down her farsighted, chant thighs as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous tits swelled up and out of her leather halter top, the long knife tip rising like a silver stiletto heel from the core of her huge right breast.

Then he saw it. The tattoo. A trivial QAnon. Just like Lauren's. High on the inside of her left second joint. Right succeeding to the grim leather thong that barely covered her neatly trimmed pussy. He wondered if Kaitlin had one too. A tattoo…and a thong…and a cute slit. He would find out soon enough.

Dustin leaned in close, whispering in Ashton's ear as he stroked her long blonde hair with his pull up stakes hired man, pawed her leather thong with his right field, and used his tongue to slowly lick the dripping stemma from the astute knife blade that rose out of her breast.

"I heard your Quaker Lauren say you like"French-kissing, long and slack ”. You want some now ? Lem me demo you my limited technique. You'll love it. Every now and then I use it on a beautiful miss like you. It's gon na be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for ya ’. It's a real killer whale. I guarantee it."

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

Dustin continued his kiss of Death, keeping his mouth locked over Ashton's crimson lips, pinching her olfactory organ shut with his left hand, while using his right to explore her luxuriant writhing body. Sliding his fingertips back and forth across her flat tummy. Stroking the presence of her leather mini. Reaching underneath to fondle and crush the forepart of her glossy leather thong. Exploring the redolence that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling knockers. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent breasts through the diffused sexy leather of her strapless hemp top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

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

Dustin gripped the knife handle protruding from the seat, slowly slid the steel out, and then shoved it firmly back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the tongue out and plunged it back into the seat. And into Sir Frederick Ashton. With each deep knife thrust, more of the all-fired tongue tip exploded up and out of her peal and wobbling breast. Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her seat each time the sharp leaf blade ripped a jagged new hole in her tight leather balancer top. She rose up one last time, arching her rear, tits thrust upward, eyes wide, wooden leg 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 knife deep into her wet mouth while running his manpower through the yearn head of hair of blockheaded blonde hair hanging to the level of the bet on bottom. This sure was unvoiced work. But very meet nonetheless. And at least it was a little quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another girl gurgling. He would deal with Lauren next. He would economise Kaitlin for final. She really did look just like Marilyn Monroe. He liked that. Besides, Kaitlin was the one who'd suffering Stacey the most. He would do her cobbler's last. And he would savor her the most. Beautiful, sexy Kaitlin. Platinum blonde Kaitlin. With that skintight red dress. And those long, muscular peg. And those big business firm breast. And that round, inviting ass.

Dustin picked up Ashton's gun again, and looked between the front seats at Lauren, still lying on her back, falling part way out the passenger threshold. One leg under the splasher below the steering wheel, the other leg thrust between the seats, her ear heeled heart almost laying in Dustin's lap. Legs spread wide. Blue micro miniskirt hiked up to her hip. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut injection. heater buried in big, firm mammilla. Shiny blue vacuum tube top stained red. But she was still alive. And still trying desperately to retrieve her own gun. The gun that lay on the priming outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the seats, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful face and tight, athletic physical structure. Watching her blueing miniskirt rise and spill on her pleasant-tasting thighs. Big tits thrust upward. blonde hairsbreadth hanging out the room access. He slid the gun barrel up and down her prospicient right leg, tracing the outline of her pointy spike cad, and the curve of her shapely calf and toned thigh. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from ankle 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 downcast 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 headland. Trying to peck 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. arrive on. Just a little bit more. There. That's it. You've got it !"

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

"I heard you tell Sir Frederick Ashton that you really love it hard in your twat. well, Ashton can't service you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something hard for your pussy. Yeah, something hard. And hot. Real hot. Something that's gon na fill you up. Nice and cryptical. You know. I always aim to please, baby. I aim to please. Sorry odoriferous cheeks, but your time is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's legs, sliding his gun up her second joint until it disappeared under her short skirt, rolling the barrel in wearisome forget me drug over the rhinestones that adorned her shiny total darkness satin flip-flop. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an blink of an eye, an earsplitting bellow echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot slug blew a large maw in the center of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her consistency into the air, throwing her back. With subdivision flailing, legs kick, and knocker jiggling, she sailed backwards out the door, thudding on the ground outside the car with only her long legs still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her pie-eyed micro miniskirt slid down her thighs, bunching at her hips, exposing her blood-soaked flip-flop, and perforated kitty. Shapely peg rose in high spirits in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her tall spike-heeled smuggled pump flew off her twitching feet, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and shining gold toe rings.

Lauren arched her rachis, moaning, groaning, rolling her hips from side to side. Her struggles grew weaker. She exhaled one last fourth dimension. sass love feast. Eyes wide. It was over. Two down, one to go. Miss Kaitlin.

Dustin slid across the seat. Face-to-face with Kaitlin. Now bug-eyed and turning amobarbital sodium, she was losing her epic poem 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 atomic number 78 hair. He licked the tip of her bulging tongue, and tasted the carmine flavor of her red lipstick. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her mouth with his spit. And he let the window down. Ever so slightly. She coughed. She gasped. Sucking in mouthful of air as the window fell away from her neck. Giving her a little elbow room to suspire. The colouration was starting to add up back into her beautiful face. respectable. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much more to do.

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

"You stupid bastard ! Who are you ? Who the fuck are you ? You killed Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that dullard blackened beef, Stacey ? Are you crazy ? Are you fucking crazy ? Mein Gott ! She was nothing ! aught ! She was a worthless blackamoor harlot ! You son of a bitch ! You'll never get away with this ! You'll never get out of here awake ! There are more of us ! Inside ! There are more of us ! We are all Aryan and strong ! Not like that whining black jade, Stacey ! We are all blonde and beautiful ! We have triggerman and we will block you ! We will follow after you ! And kill you ! Nicole will shoot down you for this ! When I get loose, I will kill you ! I'll kill you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"

Dustin gripped her school principal again, stroking his finger through her thick atomic number 78 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 lips and warm, wet sass with his lingua once again. Then he pulled back.

"Ssshhhh ! Ssshhhh ! Quiet down, will ya. You got ta learn to calm down and relax a little bit, child. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na bolt down you. Then I'm gon na kill all your blonde QAnon girlfriends when they come out to see what's going on. Then I'm gon na obliterate Nicole Arbour. And you can't halt me. I heard your suddenly friend Lauren call you ‘ a substantial ass brigand ’. She said you ‘ really did a number on Stacey's ass ’. Stacey was my devotee. Did you know that ? I guess not. What did you do to her ? I wonder. I'm gon na encounter out. I'm gon na try out a few things on you. A piffling experiment. You'll have to let me eff if I'm on the mightily racetrack. Hold on. relieve me for a minute. I think I hear someone at the stake door. Your backrest door. And a sweet back door it is. I'll meet you there in just a minute !"

Dustin exited the car and walked to the side where Kaitlin stood struggling, heading through the windowpane. He stroked his cock to full moon hardness as he watched her wriggle, wriggle, yell and curse. Kaitlin's big teat shook and wobbled inside the pie-eyed V-neck of her low-cut dress as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her fists on the unyielding meth. The shining red lycra micro minidress clung to her curvaceous torso like a second skin, thin spaghetti shoulder strap draping across her shoulders, overt back plunging down to the fissure of her ass, skintight red lycra fabric stretching around her full hip joint, barely covering her round, firm seat. Her long, lean, well-muscled ramification poured from the dresses'sky-high hemline and into a duo of strappy red stilettos, the 5"spike heel clicking and clattering on the asphalt as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every in of her sleek, supple legs, the yearn, benighted back seam traveling up the backs of her calves and thighs like an erotic main road, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his work force down her naked back and over her shiny stretch lycra minidress, following the curvature of her hips, over her monotonous tummy, up across her chest, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD wrack, back down across her trim shank, under her dress, to her red G-string, stroke, and stroking, and stroking with his bridge player, caressing her sleek stockings, running his fingertips up and down her buxom wooden leg, squeezing her sura, then moving high gear up her thigh, to his terminal destination, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the tightness of her big, round buns through the slick lycra fabric of her skintight red dress. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the back of her soaked mini…and saw the niggling QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big butt cheeks.

"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, idle, QAnon bitch girlfriends. Sorry, they can't help you. Nicole can't avail you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get ready, you big, beautiful, bootylicious, blond gripe. Here it comes. This one's for Stacey."

"No ! Noooooo ! You fucking bastard ! You can't do this ! You can't do this to me ! Wait ! Wait ! You'll never get away with this ! What are you doing ? Don't ! Don't touch me ! Get your dirty hands off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare extend to me ! I'll killing you ! I'll kill you ! Nicole will kill you ! She would never let anything chance to me ! I'm her buff ! Her buff ! You can't do this ! Nicole ! Nicole ! aid ! 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, beat booty from behind, plunging his huge cock deep into her hot, juicy ass, up to the hilt. Kaitlin's high-pitched squeals echoed inside the car as Dustin stab hard and deep, plowing her creamy Aryan ass for the very first time. He picked up the footstep. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. Pumping her ample and curvaceous buttocks hard from behind as he pulled back on the compact gold 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 cowboy, pounding her fresh face as she bucked and rolled, her head distortion and cervix stretch, trapped by the closed window and strangled by her own sullen 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 pelvis and pulled her back. Putting his full-of-the-moon weight behind each jabbing, he pounded her beautiful round hindquarters with longsighted full shot, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, thick jibe. Her gorgeous ripple butt wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his genital organ as he continued his steady, abstruse stroking. Kaitlin's spectacular tits rolled and wobbled, swinging from face to side as Dustin continued his erotic onslaught, grinding his 10"cock in and out of her tight ass like a red hot piston. The once majestic and arrogant platinum blond QAnon bombshell wailed and squealed with each mightily thrust, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled platform sandals, curvy leg muscles tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his vast pecker up to the hilt in her luscious ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. throw after stroke after cerebrovascular accident after stroke after stroke after stroke after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could feel it. Rising up like a volcano. Ready to catch fire. He pumped her hard. Harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. As he exploded into Kaitlin's exquisite ass, Dustin heard her neck opening crack. She shuddered and jerked, twitching wildly, groaning loudly one shoemaker's last fourth dimension, then went hitch. Still hanging from the window. blazonry at her sides. Huge 38DDs pressed flatcar against the side of meat of the car. Pt blonde hair spilling around her gorgeous face. optic bulging. Tongue poking out between her slick red lip. Stocking-clad legs splayed out across the cold asphalt. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. Tiny red thong wrapped around her ankles.

Dustin had to go fast now. He needed to come up Nicole. But it wouldn't be leisurely. There were Thomas More of these weirdo blonde QAnon bitches inside the mansion. He would probably have to kill them all to get to Nicole. mightiness as well begin now.

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her yummy second joint, and hoisted her voluptuous body through the orifice, share way into the back. She hung there with her upper body inside the car, cervix stretched, head bent awkwardly, platinum blonde fuzz spreading in moving ridge across the backseat, her overturned ass, long peg, and red spike cad still dangling out the window, rivulets of hot cum dripping down the backs of her shapely second joint 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 backs of her cum-stained branch, then held the G-string to his face, savoring the erotic aroma of his own cum conflate together with her hot sweat and the expensive body lotion she'd applied only an hour before her death. He pushed the sticky G-string past Kaitlin's big, red sass and into her sensuous mouth, using his fingertips to push the sexy red panties deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his hands around her slender ankles, pulling her into the car, and laying her pretty feet and red-painted toes across Ashton's naked thighs, leaving only her big tits, beautiful staring face, and long blond whisker dangling out the door. He slid Lauren's black satin thong past her strengthen thighs, curvy calfskin, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his face, inhaling the erotic aroma of her warm blood miscellaneous with the expensive perfume she'd sprayed on her slit just 30 minutes before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched panties past Lauren's pink lips and into her gaping sassing, using his finger's breadth to force the grim satin G-string deep down her throat.

Ashton was fine where she was. bent-grass back over the number one wood's ass. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade knife. Tits up. Long tomentum hanging into the rachis. Booted pegleg draped over the steering roulette wheel. Leather miniskirt bunched around her pelvic arch. Dustin pulled the switchblade from the seat back, using Ashton's long mane of thick, golden hair to wipe the leaf blade clean. He pulled the knife down across her chest, slicing her balancer top in half to expose her two magnificent 34DD tits, then carved down through soft leather and toned thigh to sever the side twine of her sexy inglorious leather lash. Gripping the glossy disastrous triangle covering her pussy, he pulled up, tearing the panties off her cooling system body. Dustin held it high up, like a trophy, admiring the lustrous black leather, and breathing in the erotic aroma of subdued leather soaked and stained with the water of a reliable Aryan bitch. Dustin wouldn't clobber these panties down Ashton's throat. He would keep them for himself.

Dustin could hear noises now. They were coming. The former blond from the mansion. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would carry on with them all. One after another. Then he would line up their drawing card. Madam Nicole.

And the real fun would begin .