Part One
My name is Stefan Angelli. When I was an 18-year-old high school senior in 1984, a classmate of mine named Bradley Walker was the first person I knew who actually owned a VCR. Given his lusty attitude toward the opposite sex, it was not surprising that he was also the first person I knew who amassed a collection of porn videos. Bradley would purchase them from a company located in Vancouver. He had their catalogue and used it often. I still recall that he’d buy videos by placing a call to their toll-free number. Most often Bradley would make his selections based upon their raunchy titles and brief descriptions. Other times he amusingly customized his orders by asking questions such as, “Do you have any compilation videos of guys coming on girls with big tits?” Bradley was a satisfied buyer as he always seemed to get exactly what he wanted. I think the company gave him a frequent-customer discount, too.
Of course, Bradley was smart enough to hide the sex videos from his parents and only watch them when they were both out of the house for at least an hour. Whenever that was the case, he’d often invite me over to watch a few whenever a new batch arrived by parcel post. One time when I visited the Walker house on a Saturday afternoon, I was surprised that Bradley’s sister, who was considerably younger than he was, sauntered casually into the living room and plopped herself on a chair to watch the videos with us. This startled me.
Bradley saw the shocked expression on my face. “Stefan, in case you didn’t know, this is my little sister Vanessa,” he informed me. “She’s just curious about sex. She caught me watching my video collection one day. We made a deal that if she said nothing to my parents, that I’d allow her to watch these videos whenever I was watching them. So here she is doing just that.”
Before that moment, I was only vaguely aware of Vanessa’s existence. She was a very nondescript girl with short black hair; there was nothing special about her. She certainly did enjoy watching her older brother’s porno flicks. She seemed utterly transfixed by what she saw. Vanessa often smiled broadly when something on the screen visually tickled her fancy. Apart from uttering a brief “Hi!”, Vanessa barely acknowledged that I was in the room.
After I had been at the Walker house for about 40 minutes, Bradley got a phone call from his mother asking him to pick up some items at the dry cleaners before it closed at the top of the hour. Bradley explained the situation to me, said he’d be back in about half an hour, and left Vanessa and me alone with an explicit pornographic video running in the VCR. I thought that was weird as I had a sister about five years older than Vanessa was—and there was no way I would have done such a thing if the situation had been reversed.
Less than a minute after Bradley drove away, Vanessa said to me, “All the sex acts on these videos look like fun to me. I’d like to try them...someday.”
Part Two
Eight years later, I was a 26-year-old assistant manager at a popular Italian restaurant located in a neighboring city. In the interim, I had earned a college diploma in hospitality services from a local community college. Therefore, it was a job I was definitely qualified for--and I quite enjoyed it. I had been employed there for slightly more than three years. One of my tasks was hiring staff members, both for the kitchen and as food servers. At first, I conducted just the interviews with job applicants. By 1992, my boss trusted my judgement strongly enough to let me make the final decisions about whom we ought to hire and whom not to hire.
In early May, there were a couple of openings for waiters and waitresses. We had gotten about two dozen résumés in the mail from our want ad in the newspaper, of which I thought perhaps half were legitimately decent candidates. I personally telephoned the contenders individually to come in for interviews on a Sunday morning before the restaurant opened. Somehow, I failed to initially notice that one applicant was named Vanessa Walker. To me she was just “Vanessa, Applicant #8”--another hopeful job-seeker.
Vanessa was the fourth person on my interview schedule that morning. When she walked through the door to my office, she looked vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite recall where I had seen her before. She had no trouble recognizing me, however. She immediately said, “Hey, I remember you. Your name is Stefan! Yeah, you’re Stefan Angelli! You’re the guy who used to watch porn flicks with my brother back at our old house!”
I was glad that the office where I was conducting the interviews was virtually soundproof when the door was shut. Nevertheless, I quickly put a finger to my lips to indicate to Vanessa that she should be discrete about her reminiscences and lower her voice a notch or two.
“Hi, Vanessa,” I said rather sheepishly. “Long time no see. You certainly have a good memory! Although you looked a little bit familiar to me, I doubt if I could have placed you so quickly without you saying who you are. You’ve certainly gotten taller since the last time we saw each other. When would that have been, Vanessa?”
“It definitely must have been 1984, Stefan,” she insisted. “Later that year, my family moved to this city so we could have a house with a backyard that could accommodate a swimming pool. That was three months after we fucked for about 20 minutes while watching one of my brother’s porno videos. I’m sure you remember the memorable afternoon we did that, Stefan. I certainly do.”
I sensed with a great deal of worry that Vanessa seemed to be less than enamored of me because of our steamy 1984 tryst. Still, I attempted to be cordial with her under the circumstances. “Yes, I do recall that afternoon,” I said, trying to sound analytical. “I recollect you suggested that we ought to mimic some sex acts in a particular video—and we did.”
“Yes, we did,” Vanessa agreed. “I was a minor, though. It doesn’t really matter if I suggested it or you suggested it. I couldn’t legally consent to having sexual activity in 1984. I could call the police right now and you’d be in deep trouble with the law.”
I sensed that Vanessa was quite serious about reporting me to the authorities all these years later. Accordingly, I tried to tactfully de-escalate things. “Yes, you could, ” I acknowledged, “but I hope it’s all water under the bridge, Vanessa. Besides, there was no doubt that you enjoyed what we did. You were smiling and giggling throughout our little fling. Let’s be honest: Vanessa, you were having a jolly old time with me from the first second to the last. I think you were having more fun than I was.”
That remark silenced Vanessa, but only for a moment. “I can’t dispute any part of what you just said, Stefan. I was a shy, introverted girl—I still am—but you were the first boy I ever did anything with. The novelty of sex was appealing to me back then. I was a very curious girl! I have to admit you actually were very kind and loving when we fucked. Still, what we did that afternoon was fundamentally wrong according to the law of the land. I know there’s no statute of limitations on it, either.”
I was starting to catch on that Vanessa was going to hold 20 minutes from my past to extort something from me. “Okay, Vanessa, you're holding all the cards here,” I noted. “What is it that you want from me in exchange for you not calling the police?”
She said, “Well, the first thing ought to be obvious: I want to be hired for one of the waitress positions that are open here.”
“That decision is entirely up to me,” I explained, “so that’s not much of a problem. You are hired, Vanessa Walker. You can start on Monday night, if you like. Welcome to the team. Is there anything else you want, Vanessa?”
“Yes,” she said while flashing a naughty smile. “I want to do the same thing with you again. I want to have sex with you just like we did in my family’s living room that afternoon eight years ago. I want to turn back the clock and fuck you legally this time. When are you free today so we can get together and do that?”
My mood went from somewhat fearful to highly amused in a millisecond. “You are quite the girl,” I told her as I chuckled. “In some ways, Vanessa, you haven’t changed very much since 1984. Sure, that idea sounds like a fun one to me. I’d love to have sex with you later today.” I glanced at her for a moment and admiringly commented, “Besides you have a much better figure now than you did eight years ago.”
“You might recall I didn’t have any figure at all eight years ago,” she sternly reminded me.
I honestly did not know if I was being extorted or rewarded by young Vanessa Walker. Whatever the case, I was soon going to get a roll in the hay out of it.
Part Three
I told Vanessa to fill out some employment paperwork and return with it completed at about 2:30 p.m. On Sundays, the restaurant did not open until 4 o’clock. Vanessa returned a few minutes ahead of schedule. I invited her back into my office, the same place where we had conducted the very brief job interview a few hours earlier that day. I immediately smelled that she was wearing perfume—and a very sexy scent it was. There was a small couch situated in the corner of the room. Sometimes I took short naps there during my breaks if I was especially tired. I indicated that she should sit beside me on it.
“No, I want to do exactly what we did in 1984,” she told me in a very authoritarian manner. “We used one of the soft chairs in my family’s living room, not a couch. You were sitting on the chair; I joined you there.”
“We were also watching porn films on a VCR that afternoon,” I pointed out. “I don’t have a TV or a VCR here in my office, much less porno films to mimic.”
“That’s not necessary,” Vanessa insisted. “I can remember everything we did back in 1984—even small details. That afternoon remains clearly etched into my memory.”
I truly hoped that Vanessa’s “small details” comment was a general remark and not one referring to a certain part of my male anatomy!
Vanessa began to disrobe and instructed me to do the same. She ordered me to sit on my tall office chair. “The chair we used back in ’84 wasn’t nearly as big as this one, but it will suffice,” Vanessa explained. “Eight years ago, I stripped to my birthday suit and sat on your lap.”
“Yes, that rings a bell with me, Vanessa,” I said.
She removed her bra and panties. Vanessa didn’t possess large breasts like the girls I normally preferred, but they were at least average size and had a wonderful perkiness about them. This trip down memory lane was going to be fun!
Vanessa sat on my lap and wrapped her arms around me. I was just about to tell her that we had kissed for a couple of minutes in 1984 before getting down to the serious intercourse part. I didn’t need to remind her. She did it without any prompting whatsoever. Furthermore, I could easily tell she had become an experienced kisser in the past eight years.
“Feel my tits like you did in 1984,” Vanessa coached me. “At least I have some tits for you to feel this time.”
“Yes, you certainly do!” I said. I happily caressed and played with them for several minutes. In 1984 I had basically just sucked on her tiny nipples. Of course, I was just as happy to suck on and lick the lovely treasures Vanessa now possessed as a young woman.
“I’m going to play with your dick now, Stefan, ” Vanessa said sexily. “I definitely remember doing this in 1984 because one of the busty porn actresses was busily jerking off the star actor in the movie that was playing on the VCR.”
I stated, “Yes, I remember that—and I’ll do my best not to come prematurely, just like I did in 1984.”
Vanessa’s sexual act lasted about five minutes. The end result was that I had a huge, throbbing erection.
“I see you are very aroused!” Vanessa concluded correctly. "I guess it’s time for me to mount you,” she whispered. “Do you remember what you said to me before you slid your penis inside my vagina eight years ago?”
“Not exactly,” I confessed, “but knowing me, I likely said something along the lines of, ‘Vanessa, sweetheart, I’m going to fuck your brains out and fill you with my cum.’ Is that about right, Vanessa?”
“That was it, practically word for word!” she acknowledged with a couple of claps of her hands. “That’s impressive!”
“Well, it’s really nothing more than a standard line from me whenever I get sexually aroused and I’m about to penetrate a girl,” I explained to her.
“You did what you promised in 1984,” Vanessa recalled. “Let’s see if you can do it again!” I was more than eager to try to please her!
Vanessa promptly climbed aboard my hard, vertical shaft and, with my assistance, proceeded to slide up and down on it. This was a fabulous way to kill time on a Sunday afternoon! Vanessa was sitting face to face with me, just as she had that afternoon in her living room. We exchanged a few more kisses, also a recreation of our past. I also applied a few extra licks to her enticing, bouncing breasts.
Without announcing anything, I came inside Vanessa’s pussy, shooting a huge and highly pleasurable load of goo into her attractive and tight vagina. As I recalled, I didn’t give Vanessa any warning in 1984, either. Back then, much of it dripped out when I pulled out of her. Not so much of my warm semen escaped from her bodily cavity in 1992, however.
“That was lovely, Stefan,” Vanessa insisted, and punctuated her comment with a long kiss. “We need to keep doing this all the time. As long as you comply, I won’t tell the cops about our illegal 1984 adventure.”
I shook my head and laughed. “Vanessa, are you blackmailing me or giving me a spectacular treat? This situation is very blurry to me. I honestly don’t know what to think!”
“Let’s just say I know how to play my cards to get exactly what I want from you,” Vanessa said with an enigmatic smile and her arms wrapped lovingly around my torso. “Speaking of which, I’d like to be able to handpick all my waitressing shifts here. I’m sure you can make any and all of the necessary scheduling changes to accommodate me, Stefan.” Then she kissed me again.
Weirdly, I seemed to be the luckiest extortion victim in the world.