Bevy of Beauties at the Mansion

You take the golf cart along the circuitous approach to George’s ocean front mansion. The grounds are increasingly well groomed, and you pass a chick on her hands and knees gardening. Her ass looks gorgeous in tight shorts as she buries her face in the bushes.

There’s a guest house that feels more like a science lab. Its walls are all glass and gleaming aluminum, and inside you spy a hot chick in a white lab coat leaning her ample rack over some chemical equipment. It reminds you of your own home set up for cooking meth, but of course there are many uses for a bunsen burner.

There’s a tennis court complex. Two chicks in white skirts are having a match.

The place is sprawling, and needs a full staff to clean. There’s a maid in a short skirt squeegeeing windows, and another one scrubbing clean the stones on a terrace.

You pass the doorway to what’s either a very expensive wine cellar or a discounted nuclear bunker. There’s a retina scan panel. You wonder if one of the chicks can open it, or if you’d need George himself to stop being a dog-poisoning dickhead and scan his own eye.

Another terrace wraps around the whole house. There’s an infinity pool overlooking the ocean, and a gorgeous younger woman in an expensive bikini lounging next to it. A seaplane is at anchor in the cove, perfect for those low altitude no radar flights for smuggling the good stuff to Miami.

In front of you is the front door of the mansion. No one comes out to greet you. You consider your options. You could walk right in, or you could question some of the chicks at George’s secure throatfucking facility. Maybe this is all an IRS front, or maybe some of them are packing fun stimulants. Your libido is in overdrive, and you are going to need to drain your dick in one of the sluts soon. What is the best way to get back at that dog poisoning motherfucker George and take away all that he cares about in the Blowjob Universe?