Interlude: The Scrimshaw Saints

“Goddess damn, dump truck ASS Police bitches! Thirsty bitches couldn’t let me go any sooner-” a certain serial ASS SLAPPER crudely lamented. Now freed from the BPD jail’s tender care, she was walking through the fading twilight of Scrimshaw in the Center-East.

“It was worth it tho-Damn! I’m gonna find that slutty cop bitch and light dat PHAT AZZ up til she loves me. Dat chica’s ASS is too fine-”

First, she had to get back to the gang. A little crew calling themselves the Scrimshaw Saints. A big name for a group lacking the reputation to back it up. A few minutes’ walk through winding dilapidated blocks, she returned to the abandoned shop they claimed.

She expected praise from the rest of the gang for earning her stripes. Silently slipping inside the purposely beat-to-hell outer door as only a Blüdhaven girl can. Her gait shifted to an near arrogant saunter. The inner door was a reinforced security door they’d jacked from an ironically low security warehouse. Sturdy and more importantly, sound-proof. The Scrimshaw Saints could fuck the entire Blüdhaven Community College volleyball team into needy Slut-Brained bitches without anyone hearing.

(Getting those horny jockgirls hooked on the Saints’ was a huge reputation boost in the city. People respect an organization more when college girls are shamelessly chasing members down the street. Even more so when the Saints started making mad money betting on volleyball games. Those goody-goody but now needy jockgirls barely tried to resist throwing points, then games, for more hits of that really good badgirl femme cock & pussy.)

Throwing open the door, what she came into was a BOOTY POPPIN’ DANCE PARTY! The Saints were reduced to wretches dancing wildly to a silent beat that resounded in the building.

“FUCK ME SIDEWAYS!! That’s fuckin’ hot!” Most of the gang were arrayed on the center of the floor. A body spectrum slim athletic muscles, to rounder jiggling curves. The intoxicating scent of fresh bad girl pussy set her body twitching. The erotic artistic flare of the scene seeped into her blood instantly. The all too familiar scent of her own pussy wafted a brief confusion into her mind. Needing to look down at herself before realizing she was starting to soak through the scant fabric covering her now itching pussy.

“AHH-Aaaaahhh!! Fuck-my nips!” Her hands shot up to palm her supple tits trying to pull the scratchy fabric away from her increasingly painfully erect nipples rubbing the rough fabric covering them. “Fuck this jailbird top…”

Quivering with urgent, unfulfilled need, the normally cocky obstinate Saints were each throwing their individual but still collective ASS at the improvised dance floor in the middle of the room. Sweat dripped off half naked tits, bouncing wildly but still in step.

Somehow their limbs all moving in sync as their hips quake. Three of them in the background, arms up and locked on the back of their head. Legs spread out and poised to send their cheeks flopping up and down.

The leader of the Scrimshaw Saints was doing an impressive handstand, her ASS facing her arriving subordinate. Her ASSCHEEKS were clapping mightily, but amazingly her balance wasn’t compromised from the lusciously jiggling fatty reverberations coursing through her body.

Her legs slowly spread, revealing a strange, beautifully exotic woman in the center of this sensuality, moving her plump, sleek, and powerful body. The gang’s flexin’ delinquent-donks were enslaved to this trick’s hips. They jiggled around, leashed to the circular sweeps and dips of her tempo. All of them helplessly moaned as they danced with the skill of expert backup dancers, popping and rocking their admittedly average ASSES.

The brown-skinned minor criminal was no exception. Immediately after clearing the door, her hands bolted to her knees as they squatted, arching her back and twerking with all of her strength.

“Hey Girl! Glad to see you out of the clink!” A visible shiver flowed over the younger woman’s body. Despite her already horny, giddy state, the alluring older woman still flushed with a tiny bit more hungry excitement. The woman greeted in her sonorous voice, perching herself on the near split legs of the Scrimshaw Saints’ leader, which amazingly didn’t break her poise. “You’re just in time!”

“Your cute boss tells me you got slammed for assaulting an officer’s ASS” She gave her a *THWAP* to the sides of the “boss” cheeks, sending her down on the ground and twerk-thrusting her hips.

“I like the balls you got, girl.” The Queen eyes up the erect package that was twerking along her ASS. “Mmmmm, yeah, you’re packing plenty.”

"BOOTY WHAP!!!" That was the only thing she could say.

“Good answer, you’ll be perfect.” Dancing Queen popped her beautifully flared hips over to a shipping crate against the wall. The girl doesn’t know what the hell Diva Industries is. But she sure as hell can understand the stenciled “experimental content” on the container.

She sashayed back after taking out what looked like a glittery purple ready for pumping cock sheath.

“I heard this thing can do some fun thing with Slut-Brain, for you and other people you fuck. A moxie girl like you? You’ll be perfect for the trial run…”