There is evil in the world. Sometimes it resides in the hearts of men, sometimes in the hearts of women. Sometimes it resides in the hearts of girls. Evil is everywhere, and were this planet not occupied by humans, there'd be no evil at all. Evil is exclusively a human invention, and it resides in all of us, to little or large degree, but it is here, everywhere, in everyone. No one is spared. Its chief pharmacist is not malice, nor violence, nor desire to cause harm. No. It is apathy.
Where evil resides, the perpetrator doesn't care what effect their actions will have on their victim. The perpetrator receives pleasure out of a particular act itself, which act society labels as "evil," because the perpetrator has no concern for the harm their own pleasure may inure to the victim. The victim always must give up something of value to the perpetrator, to be sure. The victim must pay some price, be it monetarily, or otherwise, in order for the perpetrator to gain pleasure from the act the pleasure is derived from.
It is due to this uneven bargain, where the perpetrator gains, and the victim loses, that society as a whole calls such acts, evil.
Evil is a form of theft, really, and the perpetrator, while gaining much and oftentimes, fantastic, pleasure from the transaction, cares little that the victim has suffered, has paid a price, and will thereafter, be bereft and pained, saddened at loss, injured and hurt, from their encounter, with what or whom we call, in human form, the devil.
Jenny had discovered it gave her much pleasure to have her breasts sucked on. First, by herself, she discovered it was pleasurable to fondle them, and squeeze them, and pinch them, and rub them. When she showed her well-developed breasts to Paul, her next door neighbor, in the old wooden bum's shack in the woods, she discovered it gave her pleasure to have them sucked on. She liked to do what gave her pleasure. She was very simple in this regard. If what someone did for her gave her pleasure, then it couldn't be bad, but only good. The fact that such pleasure might be gained, while someone else might suffer as a result, failed to provide a deep enough impression upon her psyche, for her to care.
Jenny had a girlfriend, Sara. Both were 18. When Jenny would visit over at Sara's house, Jenny couldn't help but notice that Sara's father would sneak looks at Jenny's burgeoning bust.
One day Jenny and Sara discovered Sara's father's collection of pornographic magazines deep in the eaves of the attic on the 3rd floor of Sara's wooden house. Most of the scantily clad women in the magazines had very large breasts. Jenny had very large breasts. She kept her large, succulent, titflesh, a secret by wearing small cupped bras which compressed herself into them, keeping her large tits still, keeping her from looking as big and as voluptuous as she was.
One time when the two young girls were looking at the pictures of women in the attic, when it had been raining out all day, and it had been unusually dark out all day, when the two of them were tucked away deep into the dark recesses of the wooden house, with a couple of flashlights looking at the pictures of her father's big breast pornographic collection, Jenny said to Sara, about one rather gifted woman in the pictures -- "I'm bigger than she is."
"No you aren't," Sara laughed. "She's huge. Look, you're not nearly that big," Sara said, pointing the flashlight at Jenny's bust.
"I'll show you if you want to see," said Jenny.
"Go ahead," said Sara, daringly.
Sara never distrusted anything Jenny said again.
As we said, it gave Jenny pleasure to have her large and still growing breasts sucked on. She could do this herself now, at age 18, but it did not give her as much pleasure as when someone else did it. She decided it would give her pleasure to have Sara's father suck on her breasts. He was a happily married man with one child. Jenny decided that she wanted him to suck on her breasts. It gave her double pleasure to think about the prospect of it, because she knew Sara's mother would be very upset about it, were she ever to find out, and she knew it would be a powerful secret to keep from Sara. The whole idea of upsetting Sara's mother and making her jealous gave Jenny very much pleasure. She'd found that Sara's mother seemed uncomfortable around Jenny. More than once she'd found her looking at her bust, and she sensed that Sara's mother thought Jenny's presence in her house only meant trouble. She would prove her right, she thought. Might as well.
Jenny had been spending a lot of time over Sara's house. It was summertime. One day, a Saturday, when Sara's father was home watching the US Open Golf Championships, Sara had to accompany her mother to Blair's, 25 minutes away, to return a gift, because her mother didn't know how to get there. Sara asked Jenny if she wanted to come. "No thanks, I'm into this golf thing; you go ahead, I'll see you when you get back."
"Okay," said Sara, and she and her mother were gone.
A few minutes later, sure they had left, Jenny went into the downstairs bathroom, closed the door, and took off her compressor bra. She left her black 36C bra in the sink. She slipped back on her snug light gray midriff t-shirt.
