Clustered around the kitchen table in a average apartment in an average part of town were four women. Two of them were teenage - one of them a stereotypical blonde complete with the obligatory mean streak, the second darker with tanned skin and lips to kill for, but just as sexually dominating. The two teens sat happily beside each other, only their friends round the table knew the public pretence of mutual hate was an act. The third woman was a few years older, in her professional life making a reputation as a lawyer. It was only the fact that working for big city firm would mean no free time to seduce lesbian bottoms kept her in the small town legal practice she was employed by. The final member was the eldest, the wrong side of forty if not yet too far into it; to most people in Rosewood she was a teacher, popular with both students and parents. Few apart from those round the table knew her as she really was, a serial fucker of bottom.
They were the A-Team and they fucked lesbian ass.
*
"So we've talked it through, but any decision needs to be unanimous," said Ella. She was the leader of the group, in as far as they had one, and for the few things they needed to do formally she acted as the chair. She glanced round the others, glad they were nodding, the conversation hadn't been long and they all seemed in agreement, but the rules were the rules as they'd been for thousands of years and across dozen of groups and she wasn't going to go against them. "Now we vote." Once they'd finished she was planning to go home and have something to eat, before marking the schoolwork in her bag and as she did that her daughter Aria would lick her pussy and afterwards would spread her cheeks for her Mom to ass fuck her hard. She turned to Alison Dilaurentis and said the name of the women they'd been discussing, "Pam Fields."
"Yes," said Alison, nodding to emphasise her agreement. After the vote she and Mona were planning to go round to Alison's older fuck-puppet, Ashley Marin and DP her.
Ella turned next to Mona. The teen looked a little impatient, keen to start fucking Ashley. The two A-team teens were also planning to make Mona's fuck-puppet, who was also Ashley's daughter, watch and afterwards serve them chips and dip as they recovered. Mona wasn't planning to bang Hanna that evening, reckoning that it was best to keep the blonde Marin on continual tender-hooks. It seemed to work, Hanna was so scared that Mona was going to leave her she do anything - as the DVD of her and her Mom sixty-nining, that was playing in the background, showed. Mona nodded, "Yes."
Next Ella turned to Melissa Hastings; unlike the others Melissa wasn't going to be fucking anyone that night - she'd be working late on a case. Luckily her Mom was leaving early the next morning and Melissa planned on having her sister for breakfast - she'd already told Ella that Spencer would be late for school the next day. She smiled, "Yes."
It was only Ella, she had the casting vote, she could say no and leave Pam out in the cold, never knowing how close the lesbian fuckfests of her literal dreams had been. Ella paused for a second, savouring the power, but then because she only enjoyed demonstrating power over bottoms and not her friends she smiled widely and let them all out of their misery, "Yes."
The others grinned and the tension that in that in the few seconds of voting had suddenly built up evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. Alison grinned, "So you want me to start the plan rolling?"
"Yes," said Mona, "I'll tell Hanna what we want from her.
"What you want from her," Melissa corrected, "Remember she's never heard of the A-team, she just thinks you and Ali bonded over fucking her and her Mom."
Mona nodded, "I know that," she said a little testily. "When do we start?"
"As soon as we can," said Ella, "There's no point waiting."
*
Pam Fields was sitting at the desk in Rosewood Police Department, a pile of files beside her. It never seemed to get smaller, mainly because as soon as she removed one file a detective would come over a dump another with her. Pam didn't mind, she enjoyed her job, after her divorce it gave her independence and got her out of the house as well as allowing her to feel she was giving something back to the community. They also serve who sit and type, she thought as she took the sheet of hand-written notes from the nearest folder and began to input them into the PC, pausing only to squint when it hard to tell whether a letter was an f, an l or even a t.
Her phone beeped with a message, she ignored it as she continued to decipher a particularly tricky bit of police handwriting. Only when she was sure she'd got it right and typed it into the PC did she pick up her cell. It wasn't a number she recognised, probably someone trying to sell her a condo or inquire about whether had car insurance. But she opened it anyway, just to be sure. On the screen appeared a woman's butt enclosed in a very tight pair of jeans that accentuated the curves of the rump. Underneath was a message 'Do you like? - The A-Team'.
Pam did. She was an ass-woman, even if no-one knew that. She lusted after hot female butt, tight and virginal or well-used and slutty, round and wobbly or firm and athletic Pam loved them all ever since she could remember. She might have moved into a conventional heterosexual marriage in her twenties, but it had never been where her heart lay. Whilst she'd tried to be a good wife and then a good mother, she couldn't always resist the lure of fuckable ass and more than once she'd secretly butt-banged some hot lesbian prostitute when her husband was away and Em at school. Pam looked at the picture, hoping she wasn't salivating. It was probably a marketing campaign for jeans, mixing her up with her more fashion conscious daughter; still, that ass was hot. Reluctantly she put down the phone and returned to her typing, making a mental note that she needed to put some of her alimony aside to hire a hot anal hooker.
The phone beeped again. This time Pam reached for it straight away. It was the same picture, but the message had another line 'Reply Y/N'. It was a campaign for jeans, Pam knew that, but she still couldn't stop herself, with trembling fingers, typing 'Y' and pressing send.
The return message came moments later as if the marketing campaigners had been waiting for her reply (or more likely it was automated). Pam opened it up and looked down at the picture, she was sure it was the same pair of jeans, except now they were half-pulled down over the rounded cheeks, showing a naked hillock of sexy female flesh, the only covering the tiny strap of a thong. Underneath was the message 'Do you like? Reply Y/N. The A-Team'. Pam's finger hit Y immediately and she waited for the reply.
The phone remained silent.
