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

Nicole bower. sapphic dame. 40 year old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, firm. And stacked. Like a brick house. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length thick blonde whisker. Bright red lipstick, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude. Neatly trimmed pussy. A actual, live Amazon queen.

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

As the car moved through the Alfred Hawthorne, twisting and turning around each curved shape in the road, Dustin wished he were behind the wheel rather than hiding on the floor in the vertebral column. He was a big guy, and it sure was cramped, but he knew the curvaceous cutie driving the car, Sir Frederick Ashton Whitty, would soon attain Nicole's blank space. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many devotee. And Ashton had her own set of menage samara. Dustin would aim the keys from her when they arrived. And he would take Ashton too. In his own special way.

Then he would have a nice long visit with Nicole.

Dustin was good at being quiet. And, in many ways, he had enjoyed this car drive through the hills. He was almost sorry it was about to end. It had been fun to kick downstairs into Ashton's car and skin in the bet on seat. And then wait. Wait for Ashton to walk out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her leave of absence her building. She was blonde and leggy. Just like her boss. Only unseasoned. About 25 year old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous face. full lips. Shimmering racy eyes. Golden light-haired hair flowing down to her shank. Tight eubstance. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful white meat. Alluring ass. Dressed to kill. Skintight black leather miniskirt. Matching black leather strapless halter top. Knee-high disastrous leather flush with 4"stiletto heels. She had a very sexy walk. Real obtuse. With lots of overnice hip action. And her tits looked good in that leather hemp top. bounce and jiggling. She was built. Built tangible nice.

The smell of her exotic aroma had filled the car when she got in. And she let her long blonde whorl fall over the headrest and into the spine. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the darkness. He played with her exuberant fuzz a picayune bit while she drove, running his hands through it, holding it against his nerve, but she didn't seem to posting. She smelled good. veridical good. And he could see between the seats. See her foresighted decently leg stretched out under the splasher. Moving back and forth between the gas pedal and brakes. Pumping the atom smasher. And the pasture brake pedal. Leather miniskirt riding high up on her thigh. Exposing a beautiful pair of long, shapely stage. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather charge. And she was horny. So very steamy. He could tell. By the way she kept touching herself with her discharge hand. Squeezing her tits through the black leather hangman's halter top. Running her helping hand up and down her second joint. Slipping her finger's breadth under her short chick to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.

Suddenly, the car slowed. And turned into a long private road. Moving slowly, up a steep hill, towards the front of a big theatre. It was more like a hall. Fancy. Very fancy. Surrounded by trees. Deep in the Hollywood Hills. It was time to admit the key fruit from Ashton.

But, before he could make his move, two figures approached from the forepart of the planetary house. Walking towards the car. Two women. Both blonde and beautiful. Just like Sir Frederick Ashton. Dustin looked them over from his hiding shoes in the indorse rear. 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 squeamish way. She was in her early twenty. glamourous doll face. Wide smile. Deep blueness middle. Pouty, full lips painted bright cherry red. Spectacular trunk. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless boob swinging and bouncing as she walked. Thick, wavy, atomic number 78 blonde haircloth. Like Marilyn Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a lustrous red, stretch out lycra, micro minidress with a deep V-neckline, spaghetti straps, and a plunging open back. So unawares that it barely covered her tight derriere in back and her red G-string in front. So tight that it stretched around her full hips and circular ass like shrink-wrap. dorsum seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely legs. Red spike-heeled platform stilettos surrounded her pretty feet. A gravid orangeness and black gold QAnon necklace hung around her neck, falling down between her big tits. Kaitlin. A Pt blonde thunderbolt. Showing lots of deep segmentation. Plenty of long, curvy leg. And that perfect round ass. Big. Tight. And hot.

And the other girl. The one on the left. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. deep 20. Cute and curvy. Seductive baby aspect. Sexy smile. Dimpled cheeks. Big green eyes. Honey-colored foresightful blond hair. slick pink lipstick. Long aureate earrings and glittering gold watch bracelet. A gold QAnon pendant dangling from her perforate navel. Wearing a shining gloomy metallic micro miniskirt, matching blue-blooded metallic tube top, and expensive spike-heeled black ticker. Her high, firm 36C teat bounced and jiggled as she yanked open the front passenger door, hopped in, and started talking.

"Sir Frederick Ashton. Listen Ashton. We've got a job. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another ignominious girl. What was her name ? You know."Stacey Dash ”. The one we picked up the other night at the club, and brought back here. Remember ? Well, Nicole. She hated Stacey right away. Because Stacey was smutty. And because of her eubstance. Stacey looked so good in that white leather catsuit with the zipper pulled down, and her big tits falling out, and her big, polish ass stretching out the cover, and those platform spike heel she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a substantial hottie. With that body. And that long, thick, curly black pilus hanging all the way down her spine. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to screw her first. You know. Before we killed her. She was so magniloquent and sexy. And everybody wanted her.

Nicole didn't like that. She was so covetous. And, well, Stacey got nosy, you know, about all the QAnon hooey everywhere in the mansion. And she started making gag about"Aryan blondes"and"stupid person QAnons"and shit like that. And Nicole got material 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 caboodle of questions, 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 pinhead. And, well, we all just got carried away.

I grabbed Stacey by the throat, and Kaitlin held her feet down, and her hired man were tied, and she was screaming actual 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 stop. And we did some awful things to her. You know. Really nasty. We chopped off all her farseeing, thick, calamitous hair. Nicole's gon na keep it as a relic. And we stuffed her white leather thong down her throat. You should have seen it. Her eyes were bugged out like big saucers ! And we put loads of different things in her pussy just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went nut case. She really did a number on Stacey's ass with that, you know, strap-on matter. And Nicole used her big QAnon stigmatization smoothing iron on Stacey's tits. And I strangled her with my hands. And it just seemed to go on forever. And we, you know, killed her. Now we have to get rid of the body ‘ have it's pretty messed up. And, well, Nicole wants us to use your car. And, well, we have to do it now ‘ cause Nicole's having a big party tonight. There's already a crew of really cute American language girl here. They're all blonde and sexy ! And Nicole says we can have any 1 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 kiss you hanker and slow, with lots of tongue, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my pussy if you want. You know how lots I really love it severely in my pussy ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so quick for some hot action tonight. Look at her in that shiny red dress with all that beautiful platinum pilus. God, she's so sexy ! She looks just wish Marilyn President Monroe ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather miniskirt ‘ cause it makes your fag aspect hot ! She really wants you bad tonight. She told me so. But you dependable 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 tangible ass bandit ! Just another wild QAnon beef, like Nicole. And all the rest of us ! So, Ashton, derive on. You got ta helper us. We need to get rid of the inkiness kick now. Then we can all go back to the mansion for some fun. Okay ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll assist you. No problem. It'll be a pleasure. I've always hated those blackamoor sluts anyway. They're not strong and blonde and beautiful like us. screw em'! But, first you got ta give me a candy kiss. Kinda like a"down payment ”. come on, Lauren, gim me some knife. Kiss me good, child. Then we'll rubbish dump that black whore, and find some new non-white jade to fuck with. Someone different this time. Not another fateful squawk. How ‘ bout a cute piffling Filipina girl, or maybe a Mexican wench with nice big tits ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and deal out some serious penalty and pain. I just bonk 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 defeat a yoke tonight. I wNicole feel the rush this metre too ! C'mon, baby. All this talk about killing more cinnamon-coloured kick is makin'me so hot and horny. Kiss 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 tap gloss as their wet lips came together and their tongues began a abstruse and satisfying exploration.

Dustin's sum began to British pound. He squirmed in the second seat. He felt cook to blow up. Tonight's assignment had suddenly changed. It had once been"business enterprise ”. Now it was"personal ”. Stacey. They had killed Stacey. These crazy American English blonde gripe had killed Stacey. Donald Jr and Eric's"Stacey ”. Dustin's"Stacey ”. He'd been trying reach her for Clarence Shepard Day Jr.. 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 bitches, Sir Frederick Ashton, Lauren, and Kaitlin. They would pay too. Who would have thought ? They were all QAnons ! Every one of them !

Suddenly, Kaitlin appeared side by side to the car. In that red minidress. And those tall platform dog. With all that platinum blonde falling around her typeface and articulatio humeri. And her big chest heaving up and down. She was phrenetic. Waving her weapon system. Pointing. Pointing into the rear seat. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite defecate it out."Something ”,"person ”,"in the back ”. What ?

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

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

"There's someone in the back of your car ! In the backseat ! There's a guy in the backseat of your caaaaarrrrrr ! Ahhhhhhhhh ! Nooooooo ! Let go of meeee ! Nooounnngggghhh !"

Dustin had already made his move. And he struck like lightening. Rising up towards the window, he reached outside, plunging his hand down the front of Kaitlin's low-cut red dress, way down into her deep segmentation. He grabbed one of her luscious 38DD braless tits with his strong flop hand, squeezing concentrated, jerking her forward, pulling her headway through the receptive window, before hitting the button again. Before Kaitlin could pull herself back out, the window came up, closing on her slender cervix, pinning her gorgeous brass and platinum blonde whorl inside the car while her full-bosomed torso 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 drive 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 fingers, she pushed frantically against the real estate methamphetamine hydrochloride with her workforce, trying to burst the iron grip that the window had on her mind and neck. Kaitlin's big titmouse spilled from the V-neck of her red minidress, flattening against the cold window glass. Her round, firm ass strained inside the short, nasty attire, big bun wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing intensified. Her lingua protruded sexily between her ruby red lips, and her big blue middle widened and bulged as she began to slowly repress, her head trapped in the closing window.

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

"bastard, an 60 minutes ago I thought these American chicks were all just a bunch of high-class hookers. What's up with all the fucking gun for hire ? And all this QAnon bullshit ?"

As he finished that cerebration, Dustin grabbed a handful of Sir Frederick Ashton's mane of farseeing blond hair, and yanked toilsome, pulling the screaming blonde out of her sitting position, and halfway back over the number one wood's bum. With her head and shoulder joint 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 snap. Big tits bursting from her halter top. Leather miniskirt riding high up her firm thighs. Spike-heeled iron boot slamming against the steerage wheel and windscreen as her foresighted legs pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"leaf blade through the rear of the driver's seat, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blond on the long chromium steel steel knife brand. The brand cut through seat fabric, shiny leather, soft hide, toned muscle and intemperately bone before exploding up into Ashton's big right breast, slicing upward through her succulent tit heart, punching out through her mammilla and the social movement of her strapless balancer, leaving a jagged hole in the nasty cloth of the black leather top, with the blooming knife tip poking up and out. Ashton's big blue angel eye widened in disbelief, her stare fixed on the sharp vane protruding from her once-perfect breast. Her mouth fell undetermined in a noiseless scream as descent began to trickle from the corners of her big red lips. Then it began. The groundless struggling. The fierce flailing of coat of arms. The trigger-happy kick of long, booted peg. And the noises. The squealing randomness. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the impaled blonde tried in vain to free herself from the 13"blade that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her pistol towards the back bottom. Dustin ripped the gun from Sir Frederick Ashton's twitching rectify hand, and shoved the drum between the seat. The simultaneous roar of two shooting iron 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 seat him as the window exploded.

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

Two hot slugs drilled into Lauren's jiggling right breast, while another tore through the center of her big left tit, obliterating her prominent set up nipple. A 4th bullet train ripped heart-to-heart her pretty umbilicus, shattering the gold QAnon belly piercing, burying itself oceanic abyss in her tight gut. She gasped and grunted as her organic structure flew back, banging hard against the door, forcing it spread out. As line of descent squirted from the three burnt black fix in her lustrous blue top, trickled across her tight tummy, and dribbled out of her middling pink mouth, she began to fall backwards out of the opening passenger threshold. Lauren's long pegleg splayed apart, forcing her blue metallic mini up her thighs, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered disgraceful satin thong. And a niggling tattoo. On the inside of her rightfulness second joint. A QAnon. A little QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to perpetrate herself back up, she clawed desperately at the rider seat with her left hand while frantically waving her side arm 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 draw in herself back in. The harder she struggled, the further her head and shoulders slid out the door. Long legs now spread encompassing, Lauren's aright substructure was caught under the dashboard, while her left substructure draped between the seats, spike heeled pump hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the threshold, her redress handwriting banged hard on the bound of the dashboard. Lauren lost her grip on the gun, and it clattered to the asphalt, just edge away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin sat back, taking a second to catch his breather. But his ears began to ring. From all the noise. Sir Frederick Ashton's shrieking combined with Lauren's groaning and Kaitlin's gurgling was starting to give him a big fat headache. clip to make a decision. Let's see.

"Eenie, unkind person, Minie, Moe, enchant a QAnon cunt by the toe, if she hollers…kill her first."

Ashton. Yes, he would deal with Sir Frederick Ashton first. It made sense. She was certainly making the nigh randomness. 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 shiny blue thermionic tube top. And Kaitlin wasn't going anywhere either what with her principal being stuck in the windowpane. And besides, she was only choking and gurgling. Sir Frederick Ashton. Yes, Sir Frederick Ashton would be first.

Dustin watched her desperate struggling. Her long blonde hair hung down behind her, draping over the back seat, swinging back and forth as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that sexy ignominious leather turnout. Everything was so short and tight. Her magniloquent melanise ear heeled boots banged and crashed against the steering wheel and car roof as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those long, shapely ramification. Her miserly leather miniskirt stretched around her house ass, sliding up and down her recollective, toned thigh as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous mammilla swelled up and out of her leather hangman's rope top, the yearn knife tip rising like a flatware spike from the plaza of her Brobdingnagian flop breast.

Then he saw it. The tattoo. A fiddling QAnon. Just like Lauren's. High on the interior of her left thigh. Right next to the black leather thong that barely covered her neatly trimmed slit. 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 close, whispering in Ashton's ear as he stroked her hanker blonde whisker with his odd script, pawed her leather G-string with his right hand, and used his glossa to slowly lick the dripping rake from the crisp tongue blade that rose out of her breast.

"I heard your admirer Lauren say you like"French-kissing, long and decelerate ”. You want some now ? Lem me exhibit you my special 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 literal Orcinus orca. I guarantee it."

Dustin began slowly licking Ashton's red sass, then pinched her nostrils together just before placing his sassing over hers. The talented Italian gun for hire locked his lips around hers, forcing his glossa down her throat as her savage wriggling and squealing escalate. He French-kissed her deeply, plunging his tongue in and out of her mouth, rolling it round and round as she struggled frantically for air. Her farsighted fuzz swung back and forth behind her as she bucked and rolled in the hindquarters, 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 Sir Frederick Ashton's ruby-red sass, pinching her nose shut with his left hand, while using his rightfield to explore her voluptuous writhing physical structure. Sliding his fingertips back and forth across her mat potbelly. Stroking the battlefront of her leather miniskirt. Reaching underneath to fondle and hug the front of her slick magazine leather thong. Exploring the sweetness that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling tit. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent white meat through the easy 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 blade out, and then shoved it hard back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the tongue out and plunged it back into the seat. And into Ashton. With each deep thrust, more of the bloody knife tip exploded up and out of her rolling and wobbling breast. Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her seat each time the knifelike blade ripped a jagged new hole in her soused leather halter top. She rose up one lastly time, arching her back, tits jab upward, eyes wide, peg twitch, moaning loudly, then she fell back. Silent. Unmoving. Dead.

One down, two to go.

Dustin leaned forward. He was sweating. He kissed Ashton again, thrusting his tongue deep into her wet mouth while running his hands through the foresightful head of hair of thick blond hair hanging to the floor of the back rump. This sure was hard workplace. But very fill nonetheless. And at to the lowest degree it was a picayune quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another girl gurgling. He would deal with Lauren next. He would preserve Kaitlin for hold up. She really did attend just like Marilyn James Monroe. He liked that. Besides, Kaitlin was the one who'd hurt Stacey the most. He would do her final stage. And he would relish her the most. Beautiful, aphrodisiac Kaitlin. platinum blonde Kaitlin. With that skintight red dress. And those longsighted, brawny legs. And those big 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 door. One leg under the splashboard below the steerage wheel, the other leg thrust between the seats, her spike heeled ticker almost laying in Dustin's lap. stage spread all-inclusive. blue air micro mini hiked up to her hip joint. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut jibe. fastball buried in big, firm tits. Shiny low thermionic valve top stained red. But she was still alive. And still trying desperately to retrieve her own gun. The gun that lay on the ground outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the buns, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful face and tight, athletic body. Watching her blue miniskirt rise and fall on her pleasant-tasting second joint. Big breast thrust upward. Blonde hair hanging out the door. He slid the gun gun barrel up and down her farsighted good leg, tracing the outline of her pointy spindle heel, and the curve of her shapely calf and toned thigh. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from articulatio talocruralis to crotch, rolling the drum back and off across her QAnon tattoo, poking and probing the figurehead of her total darkness satin thong with the still-smoking barrel. Slowly pushing the side arm up and underneath her glistening blue metallic doll, 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 principal. Trying to cull up her weapon system. 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 trivial harder. You're almost there. do on. stretch out it out. You're almost there. total on. Just a little bit more. There. That's it. You've got it !"

Dustin watched her adhesive friction the gun with her veracious handwriting. Trying to raise herself up. Trying to level the gun.

"I heard you tell Ashton that you really sleep together it hard in your pussy. Well, Ashton can't help you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something laborious for your pussy. Yeah, something hard. And hot. material hot. Something that's gon na fill you up. Nice and late. You know. I always aim to please, infant. I aim to delight. Sorry odorous cheeks, but your time is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's ramification, sliding his gun up her second joint until it disappeared under her short doll, rolling the barrelful in slow circles over the rhinestones that adorned her lustrous melanize satin lash. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an instant, an earsplitting roar echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot punch blew a large gob in the plaza of her thong, drilling into her, lifting her body into the air, throwing her book binding. With arms flailing, wooden leg boot, and breasts jiggling, she sailed backwards out the threshold, thudding on the primer outside the car with only her foresightful legs still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her squiffy micro miniskirt slid down her thighs, bunching at her hips, exposing her blood-soaked thong, and perforated twat. Shapely legs rose senior high school in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her tall spike-heeled black pumps flew off her twitching metrical unit, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and shiny gold toe rings.

Lauren arched her dorsum, moaning, groaning, rolling her pelvic girdle from face to side. Her struggles grew rickety. She exhaled one stopping point prison term. oral cavity agape. Eyes spacious. 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 bluing, she was losing her epic battle with the windowpane that ensnared her slender neck. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the reply. A small mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both hands through her thick platinum tomentum. He licked the tip of her bulging tongue, and tasted the cherry-red tang of her red lip rouge. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her sass with his tongue. And he let the window down. Ever so slightly. She coughed. She gasped. Sucking in mouthfuls of air as the window fell away from her cervix. Giving her a minuscule elbow room to respire. The coloration was starting to come back into her beautiful side. safe. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much more than to do.

Kaitlin began to bitch. Holler at Dustin. One minute she was strangling in the window, now she wouldn't shut up.

"You poor fish bastard ! Who are you ? Who the screwing are you ? You killed Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that stupid blackness bitch, Stacey ? Are you unbalanced ? Are you fucking wild ? Mein Gott ! She was nothing ! Nothing ! She was a ugly smutty whore ! You son of a beef ! You'll never get away with this ! You'll never get out of here alive ! There are More of us ! Inside ! There are more of us ! We are all Aryan and substantial ! Not like that whining black slut, Stacey ! We are all blond and beautiful ! We have ordnance 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 putting to death you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"

Dustin gripped her head again, stroking his fingers through her compact Pt hair. He leaned in close for another late French-kiss. She squealed and struggled for a instant, but then relaxed as he probed her big, red lips and warm, wet mouth with his knife once again. Then he pulled back.

"Ssshhhh ! Ssshhhh ! Quiet down, will ya. You got ta learn to calm down and slack up a minuscule bit, baby. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na stamp out you. Then I'm gon na wipe out all your blonde QAnon girlfriends when they come out to see what's going on. Then I'm gon na kill Nicole Arbour. And you can't stop me. I heard your beat acquaintance Lauren call you ‘ a very ass bandit ’. She said you ‘ really did a bit on Stacey's ass ’. Stacey was my lover. Did you know that ? I guess not. What did you do to her ? I wonder. I'm gon na witness 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 correctly track. reserve on. condone me for a minute. I think I hear somebody at the spinal column door. Your back doorway. And a sweet back door it is. I'll sports meeting you there in just a second !"

Dustin exited the car and walked to the side where Kaitlin stood struggling, head through the window. He stroked his shaft to full hardness as he watched her wriggle, squirm, yell and curse. Kaitlin's big tits shook and wobbled inside the soused V-neck of her low-cut dress as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her fists on the unyielding glass. The glossy red lycra micro minidress clung to her curvaceous body like a second skin, thin spaghetti strap draping across her articulatio humeri, heart-to-heart back plunging down to the crack of her ass, skintight red lycra textile stretching around her full pelvic girdle, barely covering her beat, house tail. Her longsighted, lean, well-muscled ramification poured from the dresses'sky-high hemline and into a pair of strappy red stilettos, the 5"spike heel clicking and clattering on the asphalt as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every inch of her sleek, supple legs, the long, dark back line traveling up the rear of her sura and thighs like an erotic highway, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his workforce down her defenseless back and over her glossy stretch lycra minidress, following the curvature of her pelvic girdle, over her flat bay window, up across her chest, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD rack, back down across her trim waist, under her dress, to her red thong, stroke, and stroking, and stroking with his manpower, caressing her sleek stockings, running his fingertips up and down her curvaceous legs, squeezing her sura, then moving high up her second joint, to his terminal destination, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the tightfistedness of her big, round buns through the slipperiness lycra framework of her skintight red dress. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the cover of her tight mini…and saw the lilliputian QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big ass cheeks.

"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, dead, QAnon bitch lady friend. Sorry, they can't help you. Nicole can't help you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get fix, 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 cutaneous senses me ! Get your dirty hands off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare affect me ! I'll kill you ! I'll putting to death you ! Nicole will kill you ! She would never let anything happen to me ! I'm her lover ! Her buff ! You can't do this ! Nicole ! Nicole ! assist ! assist 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, fill out booty from behind, plunging his Brobdingnagian prick deep into her hot, juicy ass, up to the hilt. Kaitlin's high-pitched squeals echoed inside the car as Dustin knife thrust hard and cryptic, plowing her creamy Aryan ass for the very initiatory time. He picked up the tempo. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and recondite. Pumping her ample and curvaceous buttocks hard from behind as he pulled back on the buddy-buddy gold chain of her lambency QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust toilsome, mysterious into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky cowboy, pounding her sweet buttock as she bucked and rolled, her head twisting and neck stretching, trapped by the unopen 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 workforce to Kaitlin's curvy hip and pulled her spinal column. Putting his full exercising weight behind each thrust, he pounded her beautiful rung bun with foresighted full fortuity, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, midst putz. Her gorgeous bubble goat wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his crotch as he continued his brace, deep stroking. Kaitlin's spectacular tits rolled and wobbled, swinging from side to side as Dustin continued his erotic onrush, grinding his 10"tool in and out of her tight ass like a red hot plunger. The once proud and arrogant platinum blonde QAnon thunderclap wailed and squealed with each potent thrust, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled weapons platform sandals, buxom leg muscularity tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his vast tool up to the hilt in her delicious ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. Stroke after chance event after cerebrovascular accident after virgule after stroke after cerebrovascular accident after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could finger it. Rising up like a volcano. Ready to erupt. He pumped her hard. 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 prison term, then went limp. Still hanging from the windowpane. weapon system at her sides. Huge 38DDs pressed flat against the incline of the car. Platinum blonde hairsbreadth spilling around her gorgeous typeface. Eyes bulging. Tongue poking out between her sheeny red backtalk. Stocking-clad branch splayed out across the coldness mineral pitch. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. Tiny red G-string wrapped around her ankles.

Dustin had to impress fast now. He needed to find out Nicole. But it wouldn't be easy. There were more of these crazy blond QAnon squawk inside the mansion. He would probably have to vote out them all to get to Nicole. power as well start now.

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her luscious thigh, and hoisted her voluptuary body through the chess opening, part way into the back. She hung there with her speed body inside the car, neck stretched, point bent grass awkwardly, atomic number 78 blond hair spreading in waves across the backseat, her upturned ass, long legs, and red spike heel still dangling out the windowpane, rivulets of hot cum dripping down the backs of her shapely second joint and sura, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the sexy G-string dangling from Kaitlin's ankles, rubbed the red scanty slowly up and down the cover of her cum-stained pegleg, then held the G-string to his face, savoring the titillating perfume of his own cum mixed together with her hot sweat and the expensive dead body lotion she'd applied only an 60 minutes before her death. He pushed the embarrassing G-string past Kaitlin's big, red lip and into her sensuous mouth, using his fingertips to push the sexy red pantie deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his mitt around her slender ankles, pulling her into the car, and laying her pretty feet and red-painted toes across Sir Frederick Ashton's naked second joint, leaving only her big boob, beautiful staring face, and long blonde hair dangling out the doorway. He slid Lauren's black satin flip-flop past her toned thigh, curvy calfskin, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his face, inhaling the erotic odour of her warm lineage mixed with the expensive essence she'd sprayed on her snatch just 30 minutes before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched panty past Lauren's pinko lips and into her gaping mouth, using his finger to force the black satin thong deep down her throat.

Ashton was fine where she was. bent back over the device driver's can. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade knife. Tits up. Long fuzz hanging into the back. Booted legs draped over the steering wheel. Leather miniskirt bunched around her rosehip. Dustin pulled the switchblade from the bottom back, using Ashton's long mane of thick, golden hairsbreadth to pass over the sword clean. He pulled the knife down across her chest, slicing her hangman's halter top in one-half to expose her two brilliant 34DD tits, then carved down through soft leather and toned thigh to sever the side strings of her sexy black leather thong. Gripping the shiny pitch-black triangle covering her pussy, he pulled up, tearing the step-in off her cooling body. Dustin held it eminent, like a prize, admiring the glossy black leather, and breathing in the titillating aroma of soft leather soaked and stained with the urine of a true Aryan beef. Dustin wouldn't clobber these panties down Ashton's throat. He would celebrate them for himself.

Dustin could hear noises now. They were coming. The other blond from the hall. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would deal out with them all. One after another. Then he would incur their leader. dame Nicole.

And the existent fun would get down .