Even Exchange

I was 18 years old when it happened. My first handjob. I was an A student and pretty much kept to myself. I had a few friends. But mostly all we did together was hang out and play video games.

This did not exactly bring in the girls. I had made a few aborted attempts to ask girls out in High School. But I was incredibly shy and frankly, afraid that I would bore them even if they said yes. So in essence, I spent way too much time with my imagination.

My parents didn't want me to work. My attention should be on school and all that racket. This was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, I didn't have to work. On the other, I couldn't do anything without money. Finally, I hit upon a moneymaking strategy that appeased my parents. Tutoring. It went well with getting good grades which my parents required for my continued existence.

At first, I hired out to various junior high students, tutoring mostly in math. I started charging $5 an hour, quickly raising it to $10. Several of the students I helped quickly succeeded with just a bit of tutoring and my reputation spread. I became, for the first time in my life, a sought after commodity. It was nice.

This is how I met Mrs. Stevens. Mrs. Stevens was Jeremiah's mother. She was in her mid 30s, attractive. By far her best quality was her rack. It was big, two cones of what I assumed were fluffy, supple goodness. Her worst quality, however, was her son Jeremiah. He was the quintessential C student. And that was when he put in effort. He had joined his junior high basketball team and was actually pretty good. Unfortunately, his grades threatened his continued participation.

"So you see" explained Mrs. Stevens, "he really needs your help. Marsha said that you've done wonders for Mat."

Matt was a kid I had tutored through Geometry. And I was only here as a favor to Marsha. I didn't have any time to tutor another kid.

I looked around the room. The old couch I sat on was in front of a small TV. I could hear Jeremiah shooting hoops in the back yard. I didn't want to say no, but I kinda had to. I was tutoring six kids already. I shouldn't have even agreed to the meeting.

"I'd like to, Mrs. Stevens, but I'm swamped. I'm taking three college classes and I'm already tutoring six other students. But I know this guy Anthony who is great in math...I could give you his number" I responded.

She gave a loud sigh. Her chest expanded admirably. She was wearing a tightish white blouse and a business skirt. I think she worked as a secretary. She stared at me in my eyes. I quickly moved my eyes away from her breasts. I didn't think she had noticed where I had been staring. Or at least I hoped so.

"Couldn't you...I mean, would it be possible for you to drop one of your other students?" she asked.

This was unusual. I had been forced to turn down a student or two for various reasons before. And my offer of a referral had been enough to end the conversation. I wasn't really sure what to say. I went with the truth.

"Maybe in a few months, I'll have an opening. But I couldn't just drop one of them" I responded.

Mrs. Stevens, stood up looking suddenly very tired. "What if I paid you more? ", she asked. "How much are you paid now?"

I squirmed a bit. Uncomfortable with the idea. On the other hand, more money is always nice.

"$15 an hour is what I'm getting now", I replied.

She looked at me, considering. "That much? That's as much as I make at...hmm, that's more than I was thinking" she said.

I was about to stand and leave. "Listen, I'll leave you Anthony's number and if you like, I will give you a call whenever I have a spot open."

She tapped her fingers against her chin thoughtfully. I found myself staring at her fingernails which were long and red. What was I doing here? I had a Lit paper to finish. It was a beautiful chin too I mused.

She stopped tapping her fingers. "I've got an idea," she said.

Suddenly, her hand snaked out and touched my leg.

"Uhh," was all I managed. Mrs. Stevens looked over her should towards the backyard where Jeremiah was shooting hoops. We could hear the occasional thump thump of the ball.

"I'd like you to try and find time for my son," she whispered as her hand crept up my leg. "He's very important to me," she finished as her hand grasped my member through my shorts. Needless to say I was hard.

"I can see that," I gasped.

"If you make time for him, I can make time for you," she uttered.

I was a fucking mess. I wasn't thinking about all my other students, I wasn't thinking about my comparative lit paper. I nodded, my eyes closed.

Nothing happened. I'm not sure what I was expecting but regarlessI opened my eyes to look at Mrs. Stevens. She was looking over her shoulder again. Her hand was still on my crotch. I found that to be the most important thing. Finally she turned back to me. A slight smile. Her other hand unzipped me. A slight adjustment of my hips. And out sprang my erection ( I won't go into a great deal of description about that but it was hard as a rock).

"Somebody's excited," she murmured. She traced her fingernails up from my balls to my shaft, then back down again. I shivered. Finally, I was in her grasp physically (joining my mental state). I wasn't sure where to look. Her face with a wry smile, her hand around my cock, or her plentiful chest. The door where her son could come in at any moment also was a consideration for my focus.

Her hand begin to jerk me and any thought of where my attention was best deserved flew out of my mind. "Once you finish, I'd like you to get started with Jeremiah's lessons immediately." I grunted. "Tonight," she finished.

I was rather enjoying the sensations of someone else hand rubbing my cock. I would have agreed to anything. But it did occur to me that I was supposed to tutor Allison later that evening. Evidently, my thought process showed on my face...Mrs. Stevens slowed down, almost to a halt. It was torture.

"What is it, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Please, don't stop," I begged.

She gripped me hard, pulled back on my cock. "You'll start tonight," she confirmed.

Brainpower doesn't function at optimum levels when a woman is giving me a hand job, I've learned. I then said what could charitably be described as the completely wrong answer: "I can start tomorrow, I have to..." I trailed off as she removed her hand from my cock.

"I can't, but I'll come over tomorrow and the next." As soon as the words were out of my mouth I realized I had made a colossal mistake.

"I'm not touching you again until you cancel it," she demanded.

Here I was leaning back on her couch, my shorts at my ankles with a raging hard on, and this bitch was demanding I cancel my appointment with Allison. "Fine, I'll cancel, just," I pleaded as I thrust my member towards her hand.

"Uh uh. Call first, then I'll ....", she seemed to struggle for the right term, "make time for you" She stated matter of factly.

I gave up. I don't think I had any real choice in the matter. I grabbed my cell out of my shorts pocket which is more than a bit awkward when said shorts are around your ankles and you have to navigate around your erection all the while being watched by a beautiful smirking woman. I hurried and called Allison's house. "Oh, Hi Mr. Blumberg, listen something's come up and I can't make it tonight." I said into the phone. I gulped suddenly. Mrs. Stevens hand had reclaimed its place around my cock. But she didn't move it. "Actually I might not be able to make it at all this week unfortunately" I lied but Mrs. Stevens hand seemed to approve as it began to slowly jerk me off.

"I understand you paid me already, I'm sure I can make up the time." Her slow pace picked up a bit. The conversation was not going well. Mrs. Stevens waved her spare hand in my face to get my attention. She pointed to her watch on the wrist that was busy with my dick. She had a slightly annoyed look on her face

"Allison will do just fine on her test, I'm sure. I'll give you a call later in the week to reschedule," I practically yelled into the phone as she began to really work me. I was getting there. I looked over at Mrs. Stevens' (I didn't even know her first name) chest. Her breasts were bouncing ever so slightly as she jammed her fist up and down on me. I just had to try something. I reached out and gave her leftnipple, already visibly hard, a tweak. She gave a sudden intake of breath.

"No," she exclaimed. "One way street, or nothing." She stopped jerking me and gave me a light slap on the face and another on the cock. "If you ever touch me again, I won't make any time for you."

I reluctantly nodded. She began to warily stroke me again. I closed my eyes. I could hear her begin to breathe heavily. "You're lasting longer than I thought." She was impressed...or annoyed, I'm not sure. But somehow, I was lasting. I was torn between thrusting frantically into her hand and not wanting the experience to end...ever. She stopped jerking me. She switched hands and jerked me a bit with her left.

"I've got a roast I need to get to. And my son..." she left that hanging. Somehow, her talking about her son fifty feet away struck me as really hot. Not that I needed anymore hotness.

"Oh fine," She caught my eye and slowly brought up her right hand to her mouth. She licked her hand. Then she pat into it. God, that looked hot. She switched hands again. I was suddenly lubricated.

"Cum for me. Let it all out. I know you want to. I can feel a big load coming up in your cock. It feels good right? My hand on your cock. C'mon cum for me," she demanded.

That did it. I came. She pulled up my shirt a bit just in time as I splashed myself. I thought that was oddly thoughtful. I was dazed. Mrs. Stevens removed her hand from me. She looks at her hand like she was examining a manicure. A bit of my cum oozed between her fingers.

"Ehh, you got it on..." she sounded offended. She wiped her fingers on my bare stomach, fouling me with my own cum.

She stood up. I was spent. "Well, don't just sit there. Go clean up and I'll go tell Jeremiah that it is time to begin studying," she stated as if she hadn't just coaxed a load out me. She strode away. I hadn't expected a hug or a long discussion about our encounter but the sudden switch stung. She was already yelling out to Jeremiah by the time I stood up, so I scrambled to the bathroom.

And that was how I began tutoring Mrs. Steven's son. It was an interesting experience to say the least.

More stories to come.