tagMatureJenny, There's Evil in the World

Jenny, There's Evil in the World

bynisvan©

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.

* * *

She stood against the 25" TV set on the floor, her butt resting against the top of it, her jean clad hips and legs blocking the picture from Mr. Anderson's eyes.

"Mr. Anderson is there any reason you're always staring at my bust?"

A pause. "Ahhh, what are you talking about Jenny."

"Please don't deny it Mr. Anderson, you seem to like very much to stare at my big tits."

He was taken aback by her candid language, and didn't know what to say, reminding himself that he had in fact been taking liberties now and then, catching mouthful glances at Jenny's bust. His wife, after all, was only a 34B, not nearly as big as any of the girls whose pictures were in his collection. But this was a side of Jenny he'd never seen. All he'd known of her before now was that she was a quiet respectful girl who her daughter frequently hung out with.

Finally, he said, weakly, "I think you're wrong here, Jenny."

Jenny walked toward him to where he was sitting in the lazy boy chair and stood right in front of him. Just the act of walking over had caused her free and gigantic tits to wobble and protrude vociferously and lewdly against and to the sides of her midriff T-shirt, which event Mr. Anderson couldn't fail but hone in on, however briefly, however much he'd tried not to.

"Is that why you're ogling them right now? Jenny asked.

"Jenny, please," he said, quietly, almost resignedly.

"Please, what? Please show me your big juicy jugs, Jenny. Please let me see how really big they are. Is that what you want Mr. Anderson," Jenny said, taking a deep, deep breath.

He was quiet. He tried to look away. He reddened somewhat. Finally, "Maybe."

"'Maybe'. I think I know better than that," Jenny said. "I think you really like the way my big nipples are pointing into my blouse right now, don't you, Mr. Anderson."

Silence. Twenty seconds. Finally, "Yeah."

"Ahhh. Now we're getting somewhere," said Jenny with an affectation of triumph. "Tell me. Do you think about my breasts a lot, Mr. Anderson?"

"Sometimes."

"I thought so. How'd you like to see them right now?"

Anderson said nothing.

Jenny pulled off her T-shirt off and flung the relatively tiny article of clothing at him.

"Do you like what you see, Mr. Anderson." He stared at her prodigious development, her swollen and massive protuberance of juicy, creamy titflesh, and he sat up. And he licked his lips. His forehead began to glisten. He looked out the window. "Don't worry, we'll hear them long before they come in."

"Okay," he muttered under his breath.

"So, do you like them, yes or no."

"Yes."

"Good. I thought so. Now, how'd you like to touch them?

"Okay."

"Good." Jenny walked toward him, straddled the lazy-boy, and planted her big tits in front of his face. They were full and large and each conspired to form a graciously curved large tip upon which rested her 3 inch diameter, conically shaped, light pink areolae, each mounted by an incredibly smooth and succulent inch-long rose-colored nipple. "Go ahead, it's okay," she said spiritedly.

And with both hands, he went to work on them. In 18 years of marriage, he'd never seen in person, nor then obviously touched, another women's breasts, and here he was going to town on his daughter's best friend's big juicy tits. He couldn't think of, at the moment, any reason to stop, squeezing them, and kneading them. He couldn't think of any reason to ask Jenny to stop bumping them, slapping them actually, against the sides of his face, as she swayed her chest back and forth.

After a bit, Jenny said, "You know what I really like Mr. Anderson?"

"Ahh, what," he said.

"I like my nipples sucked. Really sucked on strong. Can you do that?" she said, as if speaking to someone a little younger than her.

"Yeah," he said, and he did that. For a while. Jenny received much pleasure. And when they heard the car in the driveway, Jenny pulled away from him, coolly, walked back to the bathroom with her big tits swaying and jiggling and bouncing in front of her, and there she put her 34C bra back on, and planted herself back on the couch in the same room as Mr. Anderson, watching the TV, as if nothing had happened.

Before they came in, she said to him, "Thank you, Mr. Anderson. I enjoyed that very much, didn't you?" She saw his mouth form a sullen, quiet, "Yeah."

Jenny went home late that afternoon. She felt good about herself. She felt more than who she was before. She felt womanly. She even felt a little, powerful. And she had gotten much pleasure. Her pussy was very wet from the whole adventure. Her parents weren't home, and they wouldn't be home till much later. She picked up the telephone. Paul answered. "Paul, will you please come over and fuck me." He did. He always did that when she asked. It gave her much pleasure when Paul fucked her. It didn't bother her that Paul's girlfriend had been one of the nominees for Homecoming Queen. She didn't care for silly things like that. She liked to be pleasured, and the fact that Molly Hopkins had no clue about Jenny, had been a snob to Jenny, had treated Jenny as if she were beneath her, gave Jenny even more pleasure. She liked it when Paul's girlfriend's boyfriend fucked her, not only because he was very good at it, and because he worshiped Jenny's breasts most sufficiently, but because he was betraying Molly. That gave her very much pleasure.

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