“ I'm getting'too old for this shit"thought Dustin Heard as the car traveled into the Hollywood James Jerome Hill. He was headed toward Nicole's hall heights above Los Angeles. Tanned, well-endowed Nicole Arbour. That big, light-haired American cunt. She was goin'down. Permanently. She and all her cute little blond girlfriends.

Nicole arbor. sapphic madam. 40 years old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, strong. And stacked. Like a brick house. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length thick blonde hairsbreadth. Bright red lipstick, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude. Neatly trimmed pussy. A real, live on Amazon queen.

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

As the car moved through the hills, twisting and turning around each curve in the road, Dustin wished he were behind the rack rather than hiding on the base in the back. He was a big guy, and it sure was cramped, but he knew the well-endowed cutie driving the car, Ashton Whitty, would soon pass on Nicole's place. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many fan. And Ashton had her own set of house keys. Dustin would strike the keys from her when they arrived. And he would drive Ashton too. In his own special way.

Then he would consume a overnice retentive visit with Nicole.

Dustin was good at being quiet. And, in many slipway, he had enjoyed this car ride through the hills. He was almost no-count it was about to end. It had been fun to bankrupt into Sir Frederick Ashton's car and hide in the rearward hind end. And then wait. 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 boss. Only younger. About 25 twelvemonth old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous face. full moon lips. Shimmering gentle eye. Golden blonde hairsbreadth flowing down to her shank. Tight body. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful white meat. Alluring ass. Dressed to shoot down. Skintight black leather miniskirt. Matching nigrify leather strapless halter top. knee-hi black leather boots with 4"stiletto dog. She had a very aphrodisiacal walk. really dim. With lots of dainty hip action. And her tits looked good in that leather halter top. Bouncing and jiggling. She was built. Built material nice.

The smell of her exotic scent had filled the car when she got in. And she let her long blonde locks fall over the headrest and into the book binding. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the darkness. He played with her luxurious whisker a small bit while she drove, running his hands through it, holding it against his typeface, but she didn't seem to notice. She smelled good. existent dear. And he could see between the backside. See her long right leg stretched out under the splasher. Moving back and forth between the gas pedal and brake system. Pumping the accelerator. And the brake pedal. Leather miniskirt riding eminent up on her thigh. Exposing a beautiful duo of long, shapely legs. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather iron heel. And she was horny. So very corneous. He could tell. By the way she kept touching herself with her free hand. Squeezing her tits through the black leather halter top. Running her deal 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 long driveway. Moving slowly, up a steep hill, towards the figurehead of a big house. It was more like a mansion. Fancy. Very illusion. Surrounded by Tree. trench in the Hollywood Hills. It was clock time to contain the keys from Ashton.

But, before he could take a crap his motility, two figures approached from the presence of the house. Walking towards the car. Two woman. Both blonde and beautiful. Just like Ashton. Dustin looked them over from his hiding place 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 girl. But in a nice way. A very gracious way. She was in her early twenty dollar bill. Glamorous doll face. Wide grin. trench blue eyes. Pouty, replete sassing painted bright cherry red. dramatic torso. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless breasts swinging and bouncing as she walked. midst, wavy, platinum blonde hair. Like Marilyn James Monroe. Wearing a bright red, extend lycra, micro minidress with a oceanic abyss V-neckline, spaghetti straps, and a plunging overt back. So short that it barely covered her crocked buns in back and her red G-string in battlefront. So nasty that it stretched around her wide-cut articulatio coxae and round ass like shrink-wrap. rear seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely wooden leg. Red spike-heeled program stilettos surrounded her pretty infantry. A laborious orange and black gold QAnon necklace hung around her neck, falling down between her big tits. Kaitlin. A platinum blonde bombshell. Showing slew of late cleavage. plenteousness of long, curvy leg. And that perfect round ass. Big. Tight. And hot.

And the other young lady. The one on the left hand. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. recently twenties. Cute and curvy. Seductive babe face. Sexy smiling. Dimpled cheeks. Big leafy vegetable eyes. Honey-colored hanker blonde hair. glossy pink lipstick. Long gold earrings and glittering gold bracelets. A amber QAnon pendant dangling from her pierced navel. Wearing a shining low metal micro miniskirt, matching down metal tube top, and expensive spike-heeled blackamoor pumps. Her high school, firm 36C tits bounced and jiggled as she yanked open the front passenger door, hopped in, and started talking.

"Ashton. Listen Ashton. We've got a problem. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another smutty girl. What was her figure ? You know."Stacey Dash ”. The one we picked up the other dark at the clubhouse, and brought back here. Remember ? well, Nicole. She hated Stacey right away. Because Stacey was blacken. And because of her body. Stacey looked so expert in that Theodore Harold White leather catsuit with the zipper pulled down, and her big tits falling out, and her big, round ass stretching out the back, and those weapons platform spike dog she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a real hottie. With that body. And that long, thick, curly calamitous hairsbreadth hanging all the way down her back. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to bonk her first off. You know. Before we killed her. She was so tall and sexy. And everybody wanted her.

Nicole didn't like that. She was so jealous. And, well, Stacey got nosy, you know, about all the QAnon stuff everywhere in the mansion. And she started making laugh about"Aryan blondes"and"pillock QAnons"and shit like that. And Nicole got existent mad as usual. Stacey got scared and tried to leave, but we wouldn't let her. We kinda had a big competitiveness. You know. Then we held her down, and stripped off that sexy leather rig, and tied her up. Well, then Nicole started asking her spate of interrogation, and Stacey wouldn't answer. And, well, you know, then Nicole started working her over. I mean really working her over. Especially those big, chocolate-colored booby. And, well, we all just got comport away.

I grabbed Stacey by the throat, and Kaitlin held her human foot down, and her hands were tied, and she was screaming real loud and kicking, and all the early 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 blockade. And we did some filthy things to her. You know. Really filthy. We chopped off all her hanker, chummy, ignominious hair. Nicole's gon na keep it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her white leather thong down her throat. You should bear seen it. Her oculus were bugged out like big dish ! And we put lots of different things in her kitty-cat just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went nuts. She really did a number on Stacey's ass with that, you know, strap-on thing. And Nicole used her big QAnon branding iron on Stacey's boob. 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 ‘ cause it's pretty messed up. And, well, Nicole wants us to use your car. And, well, we have to do it now ‘ movement Nicole's having a big party tonight. There's already a crew of really cunning American girls here. They're all blonde and sexy ! And Nicole says we can ingest any single 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 ! seminal fluid on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll kiss you foresighted and slow down, with lots of natural language, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my pussy if you want. You know how much I really make love it hard in my pussy ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so ready for some hot action tonight. attend at her in that shiny red attire with all that beautiful platinum hairsbreadth. God, she's so sexy ! She looks just the likes of Marilyn President Monroe ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather mini ‘ cause it makes your butt look hot ! She really wants you bad tonight. She told me so. But you better watch out. She'll get you drunk and try to do your ass with her strap-on when you're too wasted to say no ! Just like she did with Stacey. She's a real number ass brigand ! Just another crazy QAnon bitch, like Nicole. And all the rest of us ! So, Ashton, derive on. You got ta assist us. We need to get rid of the black beef now. Then we can all go back to the mansion for some fun. OK ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll help you. No trouble. It'll be a delight. I've always hated those black strumpet anyway. They're not potent and blonde and beautiful like us. Fuck em'! But, first you got ta give me a kiss. Kinda like a"down payment ”. Come on, Lauren, gim me some tongue. Kiss me skillful, baby. Then we'll trash dump that melanise whore, and rule some new dark-skinned sluts to fuck with. Someone different this time. Not another nigrify beef. How ‘ bout a cute fiddling Filipina girl, or maybe a Mexican skirt with nice big teat ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and deal out some serious punishment and annoyance. I just love it when they scream and holler ! Then we'll kill ‘ em just care Stacey. Nice and decelerate. 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 kick this time too ! C'mon, baby. All this talk about killing more cinnamon-colored bitches is Makin'me so hot and horny. osculate me. Kiss me substantial good ! We'll make Kaitlin so green-eyed !"

Ashton and Lauren leaned together for a bass French-kiss, red lipstick mixing with pink glossary as their wet sass came together and their tongues began a abstruse and solid exploration.

Dustin's nub began to pound. He squirmed in the back arse. He felt gear up to explode. Tonight's assignment had suddenly changed. It had once been"clientele ”. Now it was"personal ”. Stacey. They had killed Stacey. These crazy American language blonde kick had killed Stacey. Donald Jr and Eric's"Stacey ”. Dustin's"Stacey ”. He'd been trying grasp 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 language blonde beef, Ashton, Lauren, and Kaitlin. They would pay too. Who would bear thought ? They were all QAnons ! Every one of them !

Suddenly, Kaitlin appeared next to the car. In that red minidress. And those marvellous platform heels. With all that atomic number 78 blonde falling around her face and shoulders. And her big dresser heaving up and down. She was unrestrained. Waving her arms. Pointing. Pointing into the back seat. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite pee it out."Something ”,"Someone ”,"in the back ”. What ?

"What the fuck is she talking about ? Ashton, roll the window down ”.

Ashton hit the release and all four window lowered. Kaitlin was screaming.

"There's someone in the backrest 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 motility. And he struck like lightening. Rising up towards the window, he reached outside, plunging his hand down the front of Kaitlin's decollete red dress, way down into her bass cleavage. He grabbed one of her luscious 38DD braless boob with his strong right hand, squeezing hard, jerking her forward, pulling her fountainhead through the open 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 case and platinum blond whorl inside the car while her voluptuous consistence and long stocking-clad legs writhed outside. boot and squirming. Choking and gurgling. Twisting and turning. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. Kaitlin's stiletto-heeled red sandals scraped on the crushed rock private road as she stumbled against the side of meat of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted window. Banging her fists on the ice. Gripping the windowpane with her finger's breadth, she pushed frantically against the immoveable chalk with her hands, trying to break the atomic number 26 suitcase 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 frigidness windowpane looking glass. Her round, firm ass strained inside the short, tight garb, big butt wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing escalate. Her tongue protruded sexily between her deep red red lips, and her big patrician eye widened and bulged as she began to slowly throttle, her pass trapped in the ending window.

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

"shucks, an hour ago I thought these American doll were all just a gang of high-class Hooker. What's up with all the fucking artillery ? And all this QAnon turd ?"

As he finished that thought, Dustin grabbed a smattering of Sir Frederick Ashton's mane of foresightful blonde hairsbreadth, and yanked laborious, pulling the screaming blond out of her sitting side, and halfway back over the driver's fanny. With her head 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 pap bursting from her halter top. Leather mini riding high up her house thighs. Spike-heeled boots slamming against the guidance wheel and windshield as her prospicient legs pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"blade through the rear of the driver's seat, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blond on the recollective stainless steel knife blade. The brand cut through fanny fabric, shiny leather, delicate skin, toned muscle and backbreaking bone before exploding up into Ashton's big right breast, slicing upward through her succulent tit meat, punching out through her pap and the battlefront of her strapless halter, leaving a notched hole in the stiff fabric of the nigrify leather top, with the bloody knife tip poking up and out. Sir Frederick Ashton's big blue eyes widened in disbelief, her gaze fixed on the astute sword protruding from her once-perfect breast. Her back talk fell spread out in a noiseless wow as pedigree began to filter from the corners of her big red back talk. Then it began. The wild struggling. The furious flailing of arms. The violent kicking of long, booted legs. And the noises. The squealing interference. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the transfix blonde tried in vain to free herself from the 13"vane that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her pistol towards the back tail end. Dustin ripped the gun from Ashton's twitching right manus, and shoved the drum between the seats. The co-occurrent roar of two side arm filled the air with a deafening noise. Dustin felt the hot breathing space of Lauren's bullets whizzing past his ear, and heard the shattering of glass behind him as the windowpane exploded.

A come on miss for Dustin, but no such luck for Lauren.

Two hot biff drilled into Lauren's jiggling right breast, while another tore through the shopping center of her big left tit, obliterating her boastfully upright teat. A fourth hummer ripped undefendable her pretty navel point, shattering the gold QAnon belly piercing, burying itself deep in her soused gut. She gasped and grunted as her body flew back, banging hard against the threshold, forcing it open air. As blood squirted from the three burnt black holes in her shining blue top, trickled across her sloshed tummy, and dribbled out of her moderately pink oral cavity, she began to pass backwards out of the chess opening passenger threshold. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her blue metallic miniskirt up her thighs, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered black satin lash. And a little tattoo. On the inside of her proper thigh. A QAnon. A little QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to pull herself back up, she clawed desperately at the passenger prat with her left helping hand while frantically waving her shooting iron with the rightfield. 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 rive herself back in. The harder she struggled, the further her drumhead and shoulders slid out the room access. Long legs now unfold encompassing, Lauren's right wing foot was caught under the dashboard, while her left metrical foot draped between the bum, spike heeled pump hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the door, her right hand banged hard on the border of the splasher. Lauren lost her clutch on the gun, and it clattered to the asphalt, just inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin sat back, taking a bit to catch his hint. But his ears began to ring. From all the noise. Ashton's shrieking combined with Lauren's groaning and Kaitlin's gurgling was starting to open him a big fat headache. meter to hold a decision. Let's see.

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

Sir Frederick Ashton. Yes, he would deal with Ashton first. It made sense. She was certainly making the most noise. Lauren was only moaning. And Lauren wasn't a terror anymore. She had lost her gun. And she was hangin'out the threshold. Gut shot. Tit snap. And bleeding all over that shiny blue pipe top. And Kaitlin wasn't going anywhere either what with her psyche being stuck in the window. And besides, she was only choking and gurgling. Ashton. Yes, Ashton would be first.

Dustin watched her despairing struggling. Her long blonde hair hung down behind her, draping over the back ass, swinging back and Forth River as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that aphrodisiacal black leather outfit. Everything was so shortsighted and plastered. Her grandiloquent black spike heeled boots banged and crashed against the steering wheel and car ceiling as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those long, shapely legs. Her tight leather mini stretched around her business firm ass, sliding up and down her long, tone thighs as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous bosom swelled up and out of her leather halter top, the long knife tip rising like a Ag spike heel from the heart and soul of her huge right hand breast.

Then he saw it. The tattoo. A picayune QAnon. Just like Lauren's. senior high on the interior of her left thigh. right future to the black leather thong that barely covered her neatly trimmed snatch. He wondered if Kaitlin had one too. A tattoo…and a thong…and a cute kitty. He would find out soon enough.

Dustin leaned in conclusion, whispering in Ashton's ear as he stroked her hanker blonde hair with his left hand, pawed her leather thong with his right, and used his tongue to slowly lick the dripping blood from the crisp knife brand 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 picture 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 tangible cause of death. I guarantee it."

Dustin began slowly licking Sir Frederick Ashton's red lip, then pinched her nostrils together just before placing his back talk over hers. The talented Italian hitman locked his lips around hers, forcing his tongue down her throat as her wild wriggling and squealing deepen. He French-kissed her deeply, plunging his tongue in and out of her mouth, rolling it cycle and round as she struggled frantically for air. Her long hair swung back and forth behind her as she bucked and rolled in the backside, 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 backtalk locked over Sir Frederick Ashton's ruby-red lips, pinching her nuzzle shut with his impart hand, while using his right hand to explore her voluptuous writhing dead body. Sliding his fingertips back and forth across her flat breadbasket. Stroking the battlefront of her leather mini. Reaching underneath to fondle and squeeze the front of her glossy leather thong. Exploring the sugariness that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling breast. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent breasts through the flaccid sexy leather of her strapless halter top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

"Okay, babe. Get cook. 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 firmly back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the knife out and plunged it back into the seat. And into Sir Frederick Ashton. With each oceanic abyss thrusting, More of the crashing knife tip exploded up and out of her rolling and wobbling breast. Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her seat each prison term the sharply brand ripped a jagged new yap in her wet leather halter top. She rose up one hold out clip, arching her dorsum, tits push up upward, eyes wide, legs 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 rima oris while running his paw through the yearn mane of thick blonde hairsbreadth hanging to the level of the rearward posterior. This sure was hard work. But very satisfying nonetheless. And at least it was a trivial quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another female child gurgling. He would deal with Lauren next. He would save Kaitlin for last. She really did front just like Marilyn Monroe. He liked that. Besides, Kaitlin was the one who'd suffering Stacey the most. He would do her last. And he would bask her the most. Beautiful, sexy Kaitlin. platinum blonde Kaitlin. With that skintight red dress. And those long, hefty legs. And those big business firm mamilla. And that bout, 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 rider threshold. One leg under the splashboard below the direction wheel, the former leg poking between the seats, her spike heeled pump almost laying in Dustin's lap. Legs spread blanket. Blue micro miniskirt hiked up to her coxa. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut shooting. Bullets buried in big, firm knocker. Shiny blue thermionic vacuum tube top stained red. But she was still alive. And still trying desperately to regain her own gun. The gun that lay on the soil outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the seats, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful face and miserly, gymnastic body. Watching her blue air miniskirt rise and decline on her luscious thighs. Big titty thrust upward. blonde haircloth hanging out the door. He slid the gun barrel up and down her foresighted right leg, tracing the schema of her pointy spike bounder, and the curve ball of her shapely calf and toned second joint. 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 pitch-dark satin G-string with the still-smoking barrel. Slowly pushing the side arm up and underneath her shiny naughty metallic chick, 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 headway. Trying to clean 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, infant. Just try a little harder. You're almost there. Come on. adulterate it out. You're almost there. Come on. Just a little bit more. There. That's it. You've got it !"

Dustin watched her hold the gun with her mighty bridge player. Trying to grow herself up. Trying to point the gun.

"I heard you tell Ashton that you really love it heavy in your pussy. Well, Ashton can't help you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something hard for your kitty. Yeah, something knockout. And hot. Real hot. Something that's gon na fill you up. Nice and deep. You know. I always aim to please, baby. I aim to delight. Sorry mellisonant impudence, but your clock time is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's legs, sliding his gun up her thigh until it disappeared under her short skirt, rolling the gun barrel in slowly circles over the rhinestones that adorned her shiny bleak 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 golf hole in the nerve center of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her body into the air, throwing her spinal column. With arms flailing, legs boot, and knocker jiggling, she sailed backwards out the door, thudding on the soil outside the car with only her retentive legs still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her tight micro miniskirt slid down her thigh, bunching at her hips, exposing her blood-soaked flip-flop, and perforated snatch. Shapely peg rose high in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her grandiloquent spike-heeled black pumps flew off her twitching feet, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and bright gold toe rings.

Lauren arched her back, moaning, groaning, rolling her hips from position to side. Her struggle grew feeble. She exhaled one last meter. mouthpiece agape. Eyes wide. It was over. Two down, one to go. fille Kaitlin.

Dustin slid across the tooshie. Face-to-face with Kaitlin. Now bug-eyed and turning amobarbital sodium, she was losing her epic battle with the window that ensnared her slender neck opening. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the answer. A little mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both hands through her thickheaded platinum hair. He licked the tip of her bulging tongue, and tasted the crimson flavor of her red lip rouge. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her mouth with his natural language. And he let the windowpane down. Ever so slightly. She coughed. She gasped. Sucking in taste of air as the windowpane fell away from her neck. Giving her a little room to emit. The people of colour was starting to come back into her beautiful side. just. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much more to do.

Kaitlin began to holler. hollow at Dustin. One arcminute 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 stupe black bitch, Stacey ? Are you mad ? Are you fucking unhinged ? Mein Gott ! She was nothing ! Nothing ! She was a slimy mordant bawd ! You son of a cunt ! 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 inviolable ! Not like that whining blackened hussy, Stacey ! We are all blonde and beautiful ! We have guns and we will stop you ! We will add up after you ! And toss off you ! Nicole will vote down you for this ! When I get idle, 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 straits again, stroking his fingers through her thick Pt hair. He leaned in close for another cryptical French-kiss. She squealed and struggled for a moment, but then relaxed as he probed her big, red lips and warm, wet mouth with his tongue once again. Then he pulled back.

"Ssshhhh ! Ssshhhh ! lull down, will ya. You got ta learn to simmer down down and relax a little bit, baby. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na kill 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 stamp out Nicole Arbour. And you can't stop me. I heard your numb supporter Lauren yell you ‘ a real ass bandit ’. She said you ‘ really did a number 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 find out. I'm gon na try out a few things on you. A piddling experiment. You'll have to let me know if I'm on the right cart track. Hold on. Excuse me for a minute. I think I hear someone at the back door. Your back threshold. And a sweetness back threshold it is. I'll meet you there in just a minute !"

Dustin exited the car and walked to the English where Kaitlin stood struggling, head through the window. He stroked his cock to entire hardness as he watched her wriggle, squirm, yell and swearing. Kaitlin's big tits shook and wobbled inside the tight V-neck of her low-cut dress as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her fists on the dogged drinking glass. The lustrous red lycra micro minidress clung to her curvaceous torso like a second tegument, slenderize spaghetti shoulder strap draping across her articulatio humeri, surface back plunging down to the wisecrack of her ass, skintight red lycra fabric stretching around her full hips, barely covering her round, house buns. Her foresightful, leaning, well-muscled legs poured from the garb'sky-high hemline and into a couple of strappy red stilettos, the 5"ear heels clicking and clattering on the asphalt as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every inch of her sleek, sylphlike pegleg, the long, dark back crease traveling up the dorsum of her calfskin and thighs like an titillating main road, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his hands down her nude back and over her shiny stretch lycra minidress, following the curve ball of her hips, over her categorical breadbasket, up across her chest, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD rack, back down across her trim shank, under her dress, to her red G-string, stroke, and stroking, and stroking with his work force, caressing her streamlined stockings, running his fingertips up and down her stacked ramification, squeezing her sura, then moving senior high school up her second joint, to his concluding goal, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the tightness of her big, troll 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 pixilated mini…and saw the piddling QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big butt cheeks.

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

"No ! Noooooo ! You fucking bastard ! You can't do this ! You can't do this to me ! Wait ! Wait ! You'll never get away with this ! What are you doing ? Don't ! Don't touch me ! Get your dirty hands off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare advert me ! I'll kill you ! I'll putting to death you ! Nicole will defeat you ! She would never let anything hap to me ! I'm her fan ! Her fan ! 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 name as Dustin mounted her big, round booty from behind, plunging his huge pecker deep into her hot, juicy ass, up to the hilt. Kaitlin's high-pitched squeals echoed inside the car as Dustin thrust hard and cryptical, plowing her creamy Aryan ass for the very first time. He picked up the tempo. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and abstruse. Pumping her ample and curvaceous stern hard from behind as he pulled back on the deep atomic number 79 Chain of her gleaming QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust unvoiced, deep into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky cowboy, pounding her sweet face as she bucked and rolled, her forefront twist and neck stretching, trapped by the close 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 manpower to Kaitlin's busty hip joint and pulled her vertebral column. Putting his full weight behind each poking, he pounded her beautiful round of drinks buns with long full phase of the moon strokes, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, chummy shaft. Her gorgeous ripple butt wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his crotch as he continued his stabilise, deep stroking. Kaitlin's spectacular tits rolled and wobbled, swinging from side of meat to side as Dustin continued his titillating onset, grinding his 10"pecker in and out of her taut ass like a red hot piston. The once lofty and arrogant platinum blonde QAnon bombshell wailed and squealed with each powerful poke, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled program sandals, sonsy leg muscles tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his Brobdingnagian rooster up to the hilt in her delicious ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. Stroke after stroke after shot after diagonal after stroke after stroke after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could experience it. Rising up like a vent. Ready to recrudesce. He pumped her backbreaking. Harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. As he exploded into Kaitlin's exquisite ass, Dustin heard her neck opening sally. She shuddered and jerked, twitching wildly, groaning loudly one last clock time, then went hobble. Still hanging from the window. Arms at her sides. Huge 38DDs pressed unconditional against the position of the car. Platinum blonde hair spilling around her gorgeous face. center bulging. lingua poking out between her calendered red lips. Stocking-clad pegleg splayed out across the cold asphalt. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. bantam red G-string wrapped around her ankles.

Dustin had to move fast now. He needed to happen Nicole. But it wouldn't be easy. There were more of these crazy blond QAnon cunt inside the mansion. He would probably feature to kill them all to get to Nicole. Might as well start now.

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her luscious thighs, and hoisted her voluptuous body through the opening, piece way into the back. She hung there with her speed body inside the car, cervix stretched, head bent-grass awkwardly, atomic number 78 blonde hair spreading in moving ridge across the backseat, her upturned ass, long peg, and red spike heel cad still dangling out the window, rill of hot cum dripping down the backbone of her shapely thighs and sura, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the aphrodisiacal G-string dangling from Kaitlin's mortise joint, rubbed the red panties slowly up and down the backs of her cum-stained legs, then held the G-string to his fount, savoring the erotic odor of his own cum mixed together with her hot fret and the expensive torso lotion she'd applied only an hour before her death. He pushed the sticky G-string yesteryear Kaitlin's big, red backtalk and into her sensuous mouth, using his fingertips to push the sexy red step-in deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his handwriting around her slender ankles, pulling her into the car, and laying her moderately ft and red-painted toes across Sir Frederick Ashton's naked thigh, leaving only her big teat, beautiful staring face, and long light-haired hair's-breadth dangling out the door. He slid Lauren's blacken satin thong past her intone thighs, curvy calf, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his expression, inhaling the erotic aroma of her lovesome stock mixed with the expensive perfume she'd sprayed on her pussy just 30 minutes before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched panty past Lauren's pink back talk and into her gaping mouth, using his finger to force the black satin lash deep down her throat.

Ashton was mulct where she was. Bent back over the number one wood's seat. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade knife. Tits up. Long hair hanging into the back. Booted legs draped over the steering wheel. Leather mini bunched around her hips. Dustin pulled the flick knife from the seat back, using Sir Frederick Ashton's long head of hair of thick, golden pilus to wipe the sword clean and jerk. He pulled the tongue down across her thorax, slicing her halter top in half to expose her two magnificent 34DD knocker, then carved down through diffused leather and toned second joint to lop the side string section of her aphrodisiacal black leather G-string. Gripping the bright blackened triangle covering her pussy, he pulled up, tearing the panties off her cooling system body. Dustin held it high, like a prize, admiring the glossy inglorious leather, and breathing in the titillating aroma of soft leather soaked and stained with the urine of a straight Aryan bitch. Dustin wouldn't stuff these panties down Ashton's throat. He would keep them for himself.

Dustin could hear noises now. They were coming. The other blond from the manse. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would share with them all. One after another. Then he would find their drawing card. Madam Nicole.

And the literal fun would start out .