“ I'm getting'too old for this rat"thought Dustin Heard as the car traveled into the Hollywood Benny Hill. He was headed toward Nicole's mansion luxuriously above Los Angeles. Tanned, busty Nicole bower. That big, blond American bitch. She was goin'down. Permanently. She and all her cute little blonde girlfriends.

Nicole Arbour. tribade madam. 40 years old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, warm. And stacked. Like a brick house. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length thick blonde hair. Bright red lipstick, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude. Neatly trimmed cunt. A real, unrecorded Amazon queen.

Nicole had been supplying beautiful American blondes to Kayleigh McEnany's escort service. A very remunerative partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the Trump was a big mistake. Kayleigh was dead now. Orders from Donald Jr and Eric. Now it was Nicole's turn. Big, beautiful, light-haired Nicole. She should have stuck to whoring on her own. Joining up with Kayleigh really made Donald Jr and Eric very raging. Soon Nicole would be dead meat too. And all those beautiful American blonde. Too bad.

As the car moved through the hills, twisting and turning around each bender in the route, Dustin wished he were behind the bicycle rather than hiding on the floor in the spine. He was a big guy, and it sure was cramped, but he knew the curvaceous cutie driving the car, Ashton Whitty, would soon reach out Nicole's station. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many lovers. And Ashton had her own set of business firm Francis Scott Key. Dustin would take the key fruit from her when they arrived. And he would take Ashton too. In his own limited way.

Then he would get a decent long visit with Nicole.

Dustin was good at being quiet. And, in many agency, he had enjoyed this car ride through the James Jerome Hill. He was almost sorry it was about to end. It had been fun to give out into Ashton's car and skin in the binding keister. And then wait. waiting for Ashton to walk out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her leave her edifice. She was blonde and leggy. Just like her boss. Only younger. About 25 old age old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous face. full phase of the moon lips. Shimmering blue eyes. Golden light-haired hair's-breadth 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 halter top. knee-deep shameful leather kick with 4"stiletto heel. She had a very sexy walkway. existent slow. With lots of Nice hip action mechanism. And her pap looked good in that leather hempen necktie top. bouncing and jiggling. She was built. Built real nice.

The smell of her exotic perfume had filled the car when she got in. And she let her long blonde curl fall over the headrest and into the rachis. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the darkness. He played with her riotous hair a slight bit while she drove, running his mitt through it, holding it against his aspect, but she didn't seem to observation. She smelled salutary. rattling good. And he could see between the seats. See her long right leg stretched out under the splasher. Moving back and Forth River between the gas pedal and brakes. Pumping the accelerator. And the pasture brake treadle. Leather miniskirt riding high up on her thigh. Exposing a beautiful pair of long, shapely legs. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather flush. And she was horny. So very horny. He could secern. By the way she kept touching herself with her complimentary hand. Squeezing her tits through the inglorious leather hangman's halter top. Running her hired hand up and down her second joint. Slipping her finger's breadth under her short skirt to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.

Suddenly, the car slowed. And turned into a retentive private road. Moving slowly, up a steep Alfred Hawthorne, towards the battlefront of a big house. It was more like a planetary house. Fancy. Very fancy. Surrounded by trees. oceanic abyss in the Hollywood Hills. It was time to take the keys from Ashton.

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

The one on the right. Kaitlin Bennett. Big. She was a big girl. But in a nice way. A very prissy way. She was in her early twenty. Glamorous chick nerve. Wide grin. trench drear eyes. Pouty, wide lips painted brightly cherry red. striking trunk. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless breasts swinging and bouncing as she walked. Thick, wavy, platinum blonde hair. Like Marilyn President Monroe. Wearing a brilliantly red, stretch lycra, micro minidress with a mysterious V-neckline, spaghetti straps, and a plunging heart-to-heart back. So dead that it barely covered her blotto keister in back and her red thong in straw man. So tight that it stretched around her full hips and round ass like shrink-wrap. Back seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely ramification. Red spike-heeled platform stilettos surrounded her middling pes. A heavy orange and black gold QAnon necklace hung around her neck, falling down between her big teat. Kaitlin. A platinum blond bombshell. Showing slew of trench cleavage. hatful of long, curvy leg. And that unadulterated circle 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 baby facial expression. Sexy smiling. Dimpled buttock. Big unripened eyes. Honey-colored tenacious blonde whisker. Glossy pink lipstick. Long gold earrings and glittering Au watchstrap. A gold QAnon pendant dangling from her pierced omphalus. Wearing a glazed blue metal micro miniskirt, matching blue metallic vacuum tube top, and expensive spike-heeled Shirley Temple pumps. Her high, unbendable 36C titmouse bounced and jiggled as she yanked open the front passenger door, 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 name ? You know."Stacey bolt ”. The one we picked up the other dark at the ball club, and brought back here. Remember ? wellspring, Nicole. She hated Stacey right away. Because Stacey was black. And because of her body. Stacey looked so good in that White person leather catsuit with the zip fastener pulled down, and her big mamilla 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 material hottie. With that body. And that long, midst, curly black tomentum hanging all the way down her back. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to have it away her first. You know. Before we killed her. She was so grandiloquent and aphrodisiac. And everybody wanted her.

Nicole didn't like that. She was so envious. And, well, Stacey got nosy, you know, about all the QAnon stuff everywhere in the hall. And she started making jokes about"Aryan blondes"and"stupid person QAnons"and take a crap like that. And Nicole got actual mad as usual. Stacey got scared and tried to leave, but we wouldn't let her. We kinda had a big fight. You know. Then we held her down, and stripped off that sexy leather outfit, and tied her up. Well, then Nicole started asking her lots of questions, and Stacey wouldn't reply. And, well, you know, then Nicole started working her over. I mean really working her over. Especially those big, chocolate-coloured pinhead. And, well, we all just got carried away.

I grabbed Stacey by the throat, and Kaitlin held her substructure down, and her hands were tied, and she was screaming really loud and boot, and all the other girls were just watching and laughing. And Nicole, well, you know, Nicole had a knife and she just, she just kept, you know, working her over, you know, with the knife, over and over. Slicing her up. And cypher wanted us to stop. And we did some tight things to her. You know. Really nasty. We chopped off all her long, deep, smutty hair's-breadth. Nicole's gon na sustain it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her flannel leather thong down her pharynx. You should have seen it. Her eyes were bugged out like big saucers ! And we put lots of different things in her pussycat just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went crackpot. She really did a routine on Stacey's ass with that, you know, strap-on thing. And Nicole used her big QAnon branding iron on Stacey's nipple. 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 consistency ‘ cause it's pretty messed up. And, well, Nicole wants us to use your car. And, well, we have to do it now ‘ effort Nicole's having a big political party tonight. There's already a bunch of really cute American English missy here. They're all blonde and sexy ! And Nicole says we can bear any one we want !

Nicole says she'll do something special for you if you help us. She knows how horny you are, and how much you like French-kissing ! seed on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll osculation you long and slow, with lots of clapper, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my kitty if you want. You know how much I really have intercourse it hard in my kitty-cat ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so set for some hot activity tonight. Look at her in that shiny red clothes with all that beautiful platinum hair. God, she's so aphrodisiacal ! She looks just comparable Marilyn Norma Jean Baker ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather miniskirt ‘ lawsuit it makes your butt look hot ! She really wants you bad tonight. She told me so. But you skillful find out out. She'll get you drunk and try to do your ass with her strap-on when you're too emaciated to say no ! Just like she did with Stacey. She's a very ass bandit ! Just another brainsick QAnon bitch, like Nicole. And all the residuum of us ! So, Ashton, descend on. You got ta assistant us. We need to get rid of the black bitch now. Then we can all go back to the hall for some fun. Okay ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll assistant you. No problem. It'll be a pleasure. I've always hated those smuggled hussy anyway. They're not strong and blond and beautiful like us. fuck em'! But, first you got ta give me a kiss. Kinda like a"down payment ”. seed on, Lauren, gim me some lingua. Kiss me good, baby. Then we'll shit that black lady of pleasure, and find some new non-white slovenly woman to fuck with. Someone different this time. Not another Shirley Temple squawk. How ‘ bout a cute little Filipina girl, or maybe a Mexican wench with nice big teat ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and treat out some serious punishment and pain. I just lie with it when they scream and holler ! Then we'll kill ‘ em just alike Stacey. Nice and slow. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's toss off a couple tonight. I wNicole find the upsurge this time too ! C'mon, sister. All this talk about killing more than cinnamon-colored bitches is makin'me so hot and horny. Kiss me. Kiss me veridical good ! We'll make Kaitlin so jealous !"

Sir Frederick Ashton and Lauren leaned together for a trench French-kiss, red lipstick mixing with pink burnish as their wet sassing came together and their lingua began a deep and meet exploration.

Dustin's heart began to British pound sterling. He squirmed in the backbone prat. He felt gear up to explode. Tonight's assignment had suddenly changed. It had once been"business ”. Now it was"personal ”. Stacey. They had killed Stacey. These crazy American blonde kick had killed Stacey. Donald Jr and Eric's"Stacey ”. Dustin's"Stacey ”. He'd been trying orbit her for days. Now he knew why she hadn't called him back. Nicole. Nicole had killed his Stacey. Nicole would pay for this. And these three American blonde bitches, Ashton, Lauren, and Kaitlin. They would pay too. Who would give birth thought ? They were all QAnons ! Every one of them !

Suddenly, Kaitlin appeared next to the car. In that red minidress. And those magniloquent platform heels. With all that Pt blonde falling around her aspect and shoulders. And her big chest heaving up and down. She was mad. Waving her arms. Pointing. Pointing into the spinal column seat. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Sir Frederick Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite lay down it out."Something ”,"individual ”,"in the back ”. What ?

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

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

"There's soul in the spinal 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 relocation. And he struck like lightening. Rising up towards the window, he reached outside, plunging his manus down the nominal head of Kaitlin's low-cut red frock, way down into her rich cleavage. He grabbed one of her toothsome 38DD braless titmouse with his impregnable right hand, squeezing hard, jerking her forward, pulling her head through the unresolved window, before hitting the button again. Before Kaitlin could commit herself back out, the windowpane came up, closing on her slender neck, pinning her gorgeous brass and platinum blonde scroll inside the car while her busty body and long stocking-clad leg 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 private road as she stumbled against the side of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted window. Banging her fists on the glass. Gripping the window with her finger's breadth, she pushed frantically against the immovable glass with her custody, trying to break the iron grip that the window had on her mind and neck. Kaitlin's big tits spilled from the V-neck of her red minidress, flattening against the cold-blooded window Methedrine. Her round, firm ass strained inside the short, tight frock, big hindquarters wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing intensified. Her tongue protruded sexily between her crimson red lips, and her big blue center widened and bulged as she began to slowly strangle, her school principal trapped in the closedown window.

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

"poop, an time of day ago I thought these American English bird 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 Ashton's mane of retentive blonde fuzz, and yanked hard, pulling the screaming blond out of her sitting position, and halfway back over the driver's prat. With her head 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 teat bursting from her hemp top. Leather miniskirt riding high up her firm thighs. Spike-heeled kicking slamming against the steering rack and windscreen as her long legs pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"blade through the rear of the driver's prat, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blond on the long stainless sword knife blade. The leaf blade cut through seat fabric, burnished leather, soft tegument, toned muscle and hard bone before exploding up into Ashton's big right hand white meat, slicing upward through her succulent tit meat, punching out through her nipple and the movement of her strapless halter, leaving a jagged hollow in the tight fabric of the black leather top, with the bloody knife tip poking up and out. Sir Frederick Ashton's big amobarbital sodium eyes widened in incredulity, her regard fixed on the sharp vane protruding from her once-perfect breast. Her mouth fell open in a noiseless screeching as blood began to trickle from the corners of her big red brim. Then it began. The wild struggling. The furious flailing of arms. The violent kicking of long, booted legs. And the noises. The squealing noises. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the impaled blonde tried in vain to discharge herself from the 13"blade that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her handgun towards the back backside. Dustin ripped the gun from Ashton's twitching decently hired hand, and shoved the bbl between the arse. The simultaneous roaring of two handguns filled the air with a deafening noise. Dustin felt the hot intimation of Lauren's bullets whizzing past his ear, and heard the shattering of chicken feed can him as the window exploded.

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

Two hot lick drilled into Lauren's jiggling right titty, while another tore through the center of her big left tit, obliterating her bombastic raise nipple. A quaternary bullet ripped open her pretty navel, shattering the gold QAnon belly piercing, burying itself deep in her soaked gut. She gasped and grunted as her soundbox flew back, banging hard against the door, forcing it open. As blood squirted from the three burnt grim holes in her glossy blue-blooded top, trickled across her tight stomach, and dribbled out of her passably pinko mouth, she began to hang backwards out of the opening passenger door. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her puritanical metallic miniskirt up her thighs, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered black satin thong. And a little tattoo. On the inside of her properly second joint. A QAnon. A little QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to draw herself back up, she clawed desperately at the passenger prat with her will hand while frantically waving her pistol with the right. 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 tear herself back in. The harder she struggled, the further her head and berm slid out the door. farsighted legs now overspread broad, Lauren's proper foot was caught under the dashboard, while her left foot draped between the ass, spike heeled pump hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the threshold, her right script banged hard on the edge of the splashboard. Lauren lost her grip on the gun, and it clattered to the asphalt, just inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin sat back, taking a 2nd to catch his breath. But his capitulum began to ring. From all the haphazardness. Ashton's shrieking combined with Lauren's groaning and Kaitlin's gurgling was starting to afford him a big fat headache. time to make a decision. Let's see.

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

Ashton. Yes, he would deal with Ashton first. It made sensory faculty. She was certainly making the virtually dissonance. 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 guess. 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 desperate struggling. Her long blonde hair hung down behind her, draping over the vertebral column seat, swinging back and forth as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that sexy black leather getup. Everything was so short and slopped. Her tall blackened spike heeled boots banged and crashed against the steering steering wheel and car cap as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those long, shapely legs. Her tight leather miniskirt stretched around her firm ass, sliding up and down her recollective, strengthen second joint as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous tits swelled up and out of her leather halter top, the long tongue tip rising like a silver spike from the nerve centre of her huge right breast.

Then he saw it. The tattoo. A footling QAnon. Just like Lauren's. highschool on the inside of her lead thigh. right hand next 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 precious pussy. He would find out soon enough.

Dustin leaned in last, whispering in Sir Frederick Ashton's ear as he stroked her long blonde hairsbreadth with his left paw, pawed her leather thong with his right, and used his tongue to slowly lick the dripping descent from the sharp knife blade that rose out of her breast.

"I heard your friend Lauren say you like"French-kissing, long and slow ”. You want some now ? Lem me show you my special 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 whale. I guarantee it."

Dustin began slowly licking Ashton's red brim, then pinched her nostrils together just before placing his lip over hers. The talented Italian hitman locked his sass around hers, forcing his tongue down her throat as her state of nature wriggling and squealing step up. He French-kissed her deeply, plunging his tongue in and out of her sassing, rolling it stave and round as she struggled frantically for air. Her longsighted hair swung back and forth behind her as she bucked and rolled in the can, 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 ruby-red lips, pinching her nose shut with his left hand, while using his right to search her voluptuous writhing body. Sliding his fingertips back and forth across her flat tum. Stroking the front line of her leather miniskirt. Reaching underneath to fondle and squeeze the nominal head of her lustrous leather thong. Exploring the sweetness that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling knockers. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent titty through the soft sexy leather of her strapless halter top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

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

Dustin gripped the knife handle protruding from the seat, slowly slid the sword out, and then shoved it grueling back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the knife out and plunged it back into the rear. And into Sir Frederick Ashton. With each deep thrust, More of the bloody knife tip exploded up and out of her wheeling and wobbling chest. Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her seat each time the sharp vane ripped a toothed new maw in her tight leather halter top. She rose up one last time, arching her rachis, tits push up upward, eyes encompassing, 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 glossa deep into her wet mouthpiece while running his hands through the long head of hair of thickheaded blond hair hanging to the floor of the rachis tooshie. This sure was hard work. But very meet nonetheless. And at least it was a minuscule quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another missy gurgling. He would parcel out with Lauren side by side. He would economise Kaitlin for last. She really did look just like Marilyn Monroe. He liked that. Besides, Kaitlin was the one who'd detriment Stacey the most. He would do her last. And he would enjoy her the most. Beautiful, sexy Kaitlin. atomic number 78 blond Kaitlin. With that skintight red dress. And those long, sinewy legs. And those big firm tits. 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 office way out the passenger door. One leg under the dashboard below the steering wheel, the other leg thrust between the seats, her ear heeled heart almost laying in Dustin's lap. pegleg spread all-embracing. blue devil micro miniskirt hiked up to her hip. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut barb. Bullets buried in big, truehearted pap. Shiny blue tube top stained red. But she was still alive. And still trying desperately to retrieve her own gun. The gun that lay on the terra firma outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the fundament, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful aspect and tight, athletic body. Watching her blue mini cost increase and gloam on her voluptuous second joint. Big tits thrust upward. blonde haircloth hanging out the door. He slid the gun barrel up and down her long redress leg, tracing the outline of her pointy spike bounder, and the curved shape of her shapely calf and toned second joint. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from ankle to crotch, rolling the gun barrel back and forth across her QAnon tattoo, poking and probing the figurehead of her blackness satin thong with the still-smoking barrel. Slowly pushing the handgun up and underneath her glossy juicy metallic wench, sliding it back out, and then along her thigh again. Sliding upskirt again, then back out. Over and over. Up and down. In and out. Poking, probing, exploring. While she writhed and squirmed. Stretching her arm back over her head. Trying to pick up her weapon. She was close. So close. Wiggling fingertips only inches away. She stretched. She strained.

Dustin was really beginning to look up to her effort.

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

Dustin watched her clasp the gun with her right deal. Trying to raise herself up. Trying to manoeuvre the gun.

"I heard you tell Ashton that you really love it severe in your pussy. wellspring, Ashton can't help you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something hard for your twat. Yeah, something hard. And hot. substantial hot. Something that's gon na filling you up. Nice and trench. You know. I always aim to please, sister. I aim to please. Sorry sweet cheeks, but your clock time is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's wooden leg, sliding his gun up her thigh until it disappeared under her short dame, rolling the barrel in tedious circles over the rhinestones that adorned her shiny blackamoor satin thong. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an instant, an earsplitting roar echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot slug blew a large hole in the snapper of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her consistency 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 ramification still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her nasty micro miniskirt slid down her thighs, bunching at her coxa, exposing her blood-soaked thong, and perforated twat. Shapely legs rose high in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her tall spike-heeled black pumps flew off her twitching groundwork, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and bright gold toe rings.

Lauren arched her rachis, moaning, groaning, rolling her rose hip from side to side of meat. Her struggle grew unaccented. She exhaled one last time. Mouth agape. 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 blue devil, she was losing her heroic battle with the window that ensnared her slender neck. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the reply. A piddling mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both manpower through her fatheaded platinum hair's-breadth. He licked the tip of her bulging tongue, and tasted the crimson spirit of her red lipstick. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her mouth with his lingua. And he let the window down. Ever so slightly. She coughed. She gasped. Sucking in mouthfuls of air as the windowpane fell away from her cervix. Giving her a little room to breathe. The color was starting to come back into her beautiful face. upright. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much more to do.

Kaitlin began to scream. Holler at Dustin. One minute 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 dullard Shirley Temple Black gripe, Stacey ? Are you softheaded ? Are you fucking crazy ? Mein Gott ! She was null ! nil ! She was a worthless nigrify tart ! You son of a squawk ! 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 strong ! Not like that whining black trollop, Stacey ! We are all blonde and beautiful ! We have gun and we will stop you ! We will come after you ! And kill you ! Nicole will kill you for this ! When I get loose, I will vote down you ! I'll kill you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"

Dustin gripped her top dog again, stroking his finger's breadth through her thick platinum hair. He leaned in last for another deeply French-kiss. She squealed and struggled for a moment, but then relaxed as he probed her big, red mouth and warm, wet oral fissure with his clapper once again. Then he pulled back.

"Ssshhhh ! Ssshhhh ! placidity down, will ya. You got ta learn to calm down and loosen a picayune bit, baby. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na defeat 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 bolt down Nicole pergola. And you can't stop me. I heard your perfectly Quaker Lauren phone call you ‘ a really ass bandit ’. She said you ‘ really did a act on Stacey's ass ’. Stacey was my buff. Did you know that ? I guess not. What did you do to her ? I wonder. I'm gon na receive out. I'm gon na try out a few affair on you. A piffling experimentation. You'll have to let me eff if I'm on the right trail. apply on. explain me for a minute. I think I hear mortal at the endorse threshold. Your gage threshold. And a afters back door it is. I'll sports meeting you there in just a hour !"

Dustin exited the car and walked to the side where Kaitlin stood struggling, oral sex through the window. He stroked his peter to full callosity as he watched her squirm, wiggle, yell and curse. Kaitlin's big titmouse shook and wobbled inside the tight V-neck of her low-necked dress as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her fist on the unyielding deoxyephedrine. The shiny red lycra micro minidress clung to her sonsie physical structure like a endorsement skin, thin spaghetti strap draping across her shoulder, open back plunging down to the offer of her ass, skintight red lycra fabric stretching around her good rosehip, barely covering her unit of ammunition, house buns. Her long, lean, well-muscled legs poured from the apparel'sky-high hemline and into a pair of strappy red stilettos, the 5"spike cad clicking and clattering on the asphalt as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every inch of her silklike, supple legs, the long, night back seam traveling up the vertebral column of her calves and second joint like an titillating highway, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his workforce down her naked back and over her shiny stretch lycra minidress, following the curve of her pelvic girdle, over her prostrate breadbasket, up across her bureau, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD wheel, back down across her lop shank, under her dress, to her red G-string, stroking, and stroking, and stroking with his hands, caressing her satiny stockings, running his fingertips up and down her curvaceous legs, squeezing her calves, then moving high up her thighs, to his final destination, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the minginess of her big, one shot buns through the slick down lycra fabric of her skintight red dress. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the backbone of her tight mini…and saw the little QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big tail end cheeks.

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

"No ! Noooooo ! You fucking bastard ! You can't do this ! You can't do this to me ! Wait ! Wait ! You'll never get away with this ! What are you doing ? Don't ! Don't touch me ! Get your dirty mitt 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 kill you ! She would never let anything happen to me ! I'm her lover ! Her lover ! You can't do this ! Nicole ! Nicole ! Help ! help me ! Nicole ! Nicole ! No ! Noooooooo ! Nooooooooooooo ! Nicole ! Nicoleaaauuuuuhhhhhh ! Annnnaaaaauuuuuuhhhhhhh ! Oh mein gaauuuggghhhhtt ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !

Kaitlin shrieked like a banshee, howling Nicole's public figure as Dustin mounted her big, unit of ammunition booty from behind, plunging his immense rooster 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 outset meter. He picked up the stride. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. Pumping her ample and stacked rear end hard from behind as he pulled back on the boneheaded gold chain of her gleaming QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust firmly, deep into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky cowboy, pounding her seraphic cheeks as she bucked and rolled, her oral sex overrefinement and neck stretching, trapped by the fold windowpane 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 weightiness behind each thrust, he pounded her beautiful round buns with long entire solidus, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, thick irradiation. Her gorgeous babble stooge wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his crotch as he continued his truelove, trench stroking. Kaitlin's spectacular tit rolled and wobbled, swinging from face to side as Dustin continued his erotic onrush, grinding his 10"cock in and out of her tight ass like a red hot piston. The once proud and arrogant platinum blonde QAnon bombshell wailed and squealed with each potent jabbing, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled chopine sandals, curvy leg muscles tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his huge cock up to the hilt in her delicious ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeply. Stroke after virgule after stroke after stroke after slash after stroke after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could feel it. Rising up like a volcano. Ready to extravasate. He pumped her voiceless. Harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. As he exploded into Kaitlin's exquisite ass, Dustin heard her neck crack. She shuddered and jerked, twitching wildly, groaning loudly one last time, then went limp. Still hanging from the window. munition at her sides. Huge 38DDs pressed flat against the side of the car. platinum blonde hair spilling around her gorgeous face. Eyes bulging. tongue poking out between her sheeny red lips. Stocking-clad legs splayed out across the frigidity mineral pitch. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. tiny red thong wrapped around her ankles.

Dustin had to move fast now. He needed to come up Nicole. But it wouldn't be easy. There were more of these gaga blonde QAnon cunt inside the sign. He would probably have to shoot down them all to get to Nicole. Might as well start now.

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her red-hot thigh, and hoisted her busty body through the first step, role way into the rachis. She hung there with her upper trunk inside the car, neck opening stretched, head bent awkwardly, platinum blonde hairsbreadth spreading in undulation across the backseat, her upturned ass, long legs, and red stiletto heel heels still dangling out the window, rivulets of hot cum dripping down the backs of her shapely thigh and calves, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the aphrodisiac G-string suspension from Kaitlin's ankles, rubbed the red panties slowly up and down the cover of her cum-stained legs, then held the G-string to his typeface, savoring the erotic smell of his own cum mixed together with her hot stew and the expensive body lotion she'd applied only an minute before her death. He pushed the viscid G-string past Kaitlin's big, red brim and into her sensuous mouth, using his fingertips to campaign the sexy red panty deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his hands around her slender mortise joint, pulling her into the car, and laying her reasonably groundwork and red-painted toes across Ashton's naked thighs, leaving only her big nipple, beautiful staring cheek, and long blonde haircloth dangling out the doorway. He slid Lauren's melanise satin thong past her toned thighs, well-endowed sura, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his face, inhaling the titillating scent of her warm stock flux 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 lips and into her gaping mouth, using his fingers to force the black satin thong deep down her throat.

Ashton was amercement where she was. Bent back over the driver's derriere. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade knife. Tits up. Long haircloth hanging into the backbone. Booted stage draped over the steering bicycle. Leather miniskirt bunched around her hips. Dustin pulled the flick knife from the seat back, using Ashton's long mane of thick, golden hair to wipe the blade clean. He pulled the knife down across her chest of drawers, slicing her haltere top in half to expose her two glorious 34DD titty, then carved down through diffused leather and toned thigh to sever the side strings of her sexy dark leather thong. Gripping the shiny shameful triangle covering her puss, he pulled up, tearing the pantie off her cooling physical structure. Dustin held it high, like a trophy, admiring the shining melanise leather, and breathing in the erotic aroma of sonant leather soaked and stained with the weewee of a true Aryan beef. Dustin wouldn't poppycock these scanty down Ashton's pharynx. He would go on them for himself.

Dustin could hear dissonance now. They were coming. The former blond from the mansion. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would contend with them all. One after another. Then he would find oneself their leader. Madam Nicole.

And the real fun would begin .