The Barter System |

When a gorgeous francophone woman requires an English tutor, the expense is a problem. Together they come up with a sexy way to make the weekly payments.

Author’s note: This is a resubmission of a story appeared on this website previously, but it was removed in May 2025 because of a certain rule that was changed. The necessary amendment was made to a character’s age to make it acceptable under the new requirements.
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According to the dictionary, the verb “barter” means “to exchange goods or services for other goods or services without using money.” In times and places where hard cash was in short supply, bartering was a huge part of the way the economy worked. For example, a cash-strapped farmer might pay a medical bill by giving the doctor some vegetables or perhaps a chicken. Even today, I have two neighbors who have an annual arrangement whereby one man mows the other man’s lawn in the summer in exchange for the other man clearing the snow from his driveway in the winter. As long as cash is not exchanged, any similar transaction is considered bartering.

My name is Calvin Ferguson. I am a private tutor; that has been my main job for four decades now. I mostly deal with traditional monetary transactions, of course, but there have been a few notable exceptions over the decades where the wonderful barter system was put to use in my job. It has not happened for a while, but on five different occasions in the not-too-distant past I have been offered sexual favors by female clients in exchange for my educational services
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To be clear, each of those times it was the student who made the offer, not I. I am not ashamed to say that in every instance I accepted those propositions. (Hey, I like sex as much as the next guy. As an added bonus, there is no paper trail for this type of transaction which, in effect, makes it nontaxable income!) Four of those instances involved desperate college girls who needed major help with important term papers in a hurry. Those were basically one-off deals: Assistance with an essay was exchanged for one session of nookie. The amount of work I put into my task roughly determined the amount of time I spent fucking a girl in the prime of her life who was typically 15 to 20 years my junior. Usually, it was a 3:1 ratio. Three hours of tutoring was redeemed for an hour of carnal delights. All in all, the barter system was quite acceptable to me.

The one bartering client of mine who was not a college girl was a woman named Jacqueline. This happened circa 1990. She was a 35-year-old single mom of French-Canadian ancestry. One day I got a phone call from her asking if I could assist her with improving her English skills. Her reasons for wanting to better herself were twofold: First, she needed to pass a correspondence course to get a high-school English credit which would put her one step closer to attaining her diploma. The other reason was more practical: She wanted to move up the ladder at her place of employment. Her English skills, both written and spoken, needed to substantially improve for that to happen. When I told her what my typical tutoring rates were, she balked. However, I am kind-hearted enough to recognize when someone truly wants to learn, even though my usual price might create a barrier. I agreed to meet with her at her home to discuss the matter.

When I arrived at her apartment, I was met by a rather attractive woman who had a truly gorgeous and seductive smile. She was about 5’6” with dirty blonde hair that was cut just above her shoulders. “Calvin, yes? Come in, please,” she greeted me. “I am Jacqueline. Welcome to my home.” It was easy to tell from her francophone accent that English was not her first language. I was seated at a kitchen table. Jacqueline sat across from me and felt compelled to tell me her life story.

She had grown up in a small town in Quebec where English was seldom spoken. At 16 she became pregnant. After promising to take care of her and the baby on the way, her boyfriend and alleged fiancé suddenly fled town and had had no contact with her since that fateful night. At age 17, she became the mother of a girl named Jennifer. In that small, French-Canadian town, there was a stigma attached to unwed motherhood, so Jacqueline—who insisted I call her Jackie—relocated to my midsize hometown in southern Ontario.

With minimal job skills, she ended up being a nude dancer within the circuit of independent strip clubs that were flourishing at the time. The money was fairly good—especially if she took deep-pocketed customers into the private rooms for “special treatment”. It was enough to pay the rent, put food on the table for herself and little Jennifer, and accrue a bit of savings, too. She picked up English in everyday situations—but she had no formal lessons. She signed up for adult education courses, but it was always a struggle for her to communicate properly in this new language. Because she was better-than-average looking, Jackie was hired to sell cosmetics and other beauty products in a department store. She quickly learned the ins and outs of the cosmetics industry and was destined to attain a managerial position at head office—if only her English skills were better. She knew she was stagnating in her current salesclerk’s job. Hiring a tutor to improve her English skills seemed to be a logical solution to her problem.

“You were recommended to me by a customer at the store,” Jackie continued. “She overheard me saying that I must improve my English to get a higher-paying and more important job with my employer.” I asked her who the person was who gave her my name and phone number. Jackie didn’t know her name, but she recognized her as a regular purchaser of beauty products. As a politeness, I accurately commented to Jackie that she was so naturally attractive that she herself needed no beauty products whatsoever. “That is so sweet of you to say, Calvin” she replied, and gently rubbed the fingers from her right hand along my left arm. I enjoyed her lovely touch.

“My English is not too bad,” she said—and I agreed—”but I would like to meet with you several hours each week until I can speak and understand English as well as I can speak French. Then, after that, I want to be able to write English equally well. English spellings are often crazy, no?”
I certainly agreed with that, but I cautiously told her that it was a long-term project she was undertaking. My rate was usually $25 per hour, I explained, but I could reduce it to $20 if she would guarantee me at least five hours per week.

There was a long silence. Looking back, I think Jackie was expecting me to take the initiative and proffer an alternate system of payment—old-fashioned bartering. When I made no such suggestion, Jackie took it upon herself to do so, relying, no doubt, on her experiences working in the private rooms of strip joints as a teenage mother. She partially unbuttoned her blouse so I could clearly see her cleavage. Jackie was indeed a well-built, attractive female. She lowered her voice to nearly a whisper before putting this offer on the table: “Calvin, dear, how about five hours of English tutoring each week in exchange for two hours of, you know, fucking?” Jackie made a circle with the thumb and index finger of her left hand and put the middle finger of her right hand inside the hole. I chuckled at her method of illustrating what her offer entailed. She flashed her sexy smile at me one more time. As a 45-year-old bachelor, I was very easy to convince. “Sure, let’s give it a try,” I agreed with alacrity.

We quickly established our schedule: Tutoring sessions would last from 9 to 10 p.m. Monday to Friday—timeslots that did not conflict with her hours at the store nor mine with any other tutees I had at that time. She added, “Then I fulfill my end of the contract from 10 to midnight after our Friday session, okay?” It was indeed okay with me. Since it was Sunday night, Jackie’s English lessons were to begin in about 24 hours.

Just as I was about to leave her apartment quite satisfied with this arrangement, a girl emerged from a bedroom. “Oh, before you leave,” Jackie said, “I want you to meet my daughter, Jennifer.” She was a pretty teenager who resembled Jackie facially. In other anatomical ways, Jennifer was not in her mother’s league—at least not yet. Based on her mother’s life story, I calculated that Jennifer was either 17 or 18 years old. (The latter proved to be accurate.) When she said hello to me, I heard no French accent whatsoever. Jennifer was an anglophone first and foremost, if not entirely.

The tutoring lessons began as scheduled the next night at the same kitchen table where we had negotiated a deal the previous evening. I brought along a boxful of books on English grammar and vocabulary, some reading comprehension exercises that ranged from very easy to quite challenging, and a book of short stories. Jackie instructed me not to be shy about pointing out every error she made. “I cannot correct an error if you do not tell me when I am wrong!” she said. I told her that statement made her sound like a philosopher. Then Jackie asked me to define what a philosopher was. We agreed to spend the last 10 minutes of each session just conversing, with the understanding that I would still point out any mistakes she made.

Like most ESL pupils, Jackie had trouble with homophones and the multiple meanings of some words. She laughed when we read an article about human anatomy and the word “joint” appeared. Jackie was puzzled by it as she had only known “joint” as a slang term for marijuana. That first night’s hour flew by. It was actually great fun—made so because Jackie was such an eager student.

After the third session, Jackie said to me. “I have a favor to ask. Can you help Jennifer for a few minutes? She needs someone to proofread an essay for school. I’m useless at that, of course.”

I told her not to underestimate her English skills, which were improving nightly, but I could certainly spare a few minutes to help her pretty daughter. Jennifer, clad in flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers, came to the table with her hand-written report about solar energy. There were some minor issues with punctuation, but the essay had no major errors whatsoever. I told Jennifer she was a “smart cookie”—another term that puzzled her mother—and her essay was bound to receive a high mark. “Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Calvin,” she said gratefully. I told her my first name was Calvin—and henceforth that was how she was to address me. She said, “Okay, Calvin” and surprisingly kissed me on the cheek before returning to her bedroom.

“That’s an affectionate daughter you have there, Jackie,” I noted
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“You are a novelty to her, Calvin. There are no male relatives in her life. They are all in Quebec and we have no contact with them.”

“Oh,” I said, “that’s a shame.” Then I complimented Jackie for using the word “novelty” correctly.

Friday night was my fifth tutoring session with Jackie. It was the milestone day because it meant I would be staying afterward for two hours of blissful sex with a woman in her mid-thirties who was attractive enough to have been a nude dancer. I decided to bring a bottle of wine for the occasion. When Jackie saw it, she said, “I hadn’t expected anything like this. What a wonderful surprise, Calvin!”

The hour flew by with vocabulary-building exercises—which Jackie always enjoyed—and a grammar lesson on active and passive voices which I sensed she did not fully grasp. I asked her to create an example of each. She cheekily said, “Calvin is going to fuck my pussy—active voice. My pussy will be fucked by Calvin—passive voice. Is that right?”

I chuckled at her wit and swiftly replied, “Oh, you couldn’t be more correct, Jackie!”

We finished the tutoring session at 10 p.m. By 10:02 we were both undressed and lying in her bed. We kissed for about five minutes and then got down to business. I began by fondling and sucking on her ample breasts. “I could play with these big, beautiful jugs of yours forever!” I told her.

“Fuck them if you like, Calvin,” she cooed softly. “I don’t mind.”

I didn’t have to be asked twice. I quickly straddled her torso and laid my dick between her prominent pair. She squeezed them together to make the sensation surrounding my penis even better. I stopped thrusting after a couple of minutes to prevent myself from coming too fast. This surprised Jackie. “You don’t want to shoot the cum on my tits?” she asked. “That’s what most men like to do.”

“No,” I said. “My cum will be deposited deep into your wonderful French-Canadian pussy. That’s where it belongs!” I repositioned myself accordingly and rode her somewhat more vigorously than even I intended. We both were grunting passionately, almost in synch, until the inevitable ejaculation occurred. It felt wonderful. Jackie liked it too.

“You fucked me good, Calvin!”

“No, Jackie!” I gently informed her. “You need to use the adverb here. You should have said, ‘You fucked me well, Calvin!’”

She gave me a playful swat on my behind for choosing such an inappropriate time for a lesson in English grammar! Then we shared a laugh. Having passionate sex with a sexpot a decade younger than I was apparently had a rejuvenating effect on me. In the next 90 minutes, I climaxed twice more—including once between Jackie’s beautiful tits just to make her happy. (Okay, that sex act made me very happy, too!)

During the next four tutoring days between Fridays, I arrived early to help Jennifer with a variety of school assignments. She overwhelmed me with sincere thank-yous and hugs for my assistance. I could tell she had a full-blown crush on me, which was extremely flattering.

The following Friday I was pleased that Jackie herself began to take a more aggressive role during our sexual escapades. She performed fellatio on me the moment I undressed. (She was great at it, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest.) She then mounted me and bounced up and down on my stiff member until I happily blasted my load of jism inside her. “Oh, Jackie, that was stupendous!” I exclaimed. She had a puzzled look on her beautiful face.

I smiled and said, “Last week it was a mid-sex grammar lesson. This week it’s a mid-sex vocabulary lesson. Stupendous means ‘extremely impressive.’ For example, ‘Jackie is a great fuck as she is stupendous in bed.’”

Jackie promptly dismounted my still stiff rod, turned me over onto my stomach, and swatted my behind just as she had done the previous week. She laughed and told me, “You are a naughty tutor, and you should be punished!”

“Oh please, Jackie, punish me until midnight!” I exclaimed.

The following Friday, when I went to Jackie’s apartment at 8:45 p.m., I was met with a double surprise. It was Jennifer, not Jackie, who opened the door. “Where’s your mother tonight, Jennifer?” I asked. “I hope she is not cancelling on me. That would be a major disappointment!”

Jennifer had a huge smile on her face. She handed me a sealed envelope. “This note will explain everything,” she told me. I hurriedly tore it open. It read,

“My dear, sweet Calvin. I am terribly sorry. About an hour ago I realized that tonight is the monthly meeting at work for the sales staff. I must attend. It runs from 9 o’clock to who-knows-when. The staff always go to a restaurant for a meal and drinks afterward. I won’t be home until after midnight. Please use my tutoring hour to help Jennifer with any homework she might have.

“When you finish at 10 p.m., Jennifer has volunteered to take my place in bed with you. (She likes you very much, Calvin. She wants to fuck you and I am very liberal-minded about such things.) Feel free to use my bed as it is larger than Jennifer’s. Happy tutoring and fucking! Love, Jackie. P.S. Don’t give Jennifer any of your untimely English lessons in bed. Did I use the word ‘untimely’ correctly? How was my English in this note?”

I couldn’t have been more surprised. I looked at Jennifer who was absolutely beaming. “Is this on the level?” I asked her. “Do you really want to go to bed with me?”

Jennifer nodded and then said, “I sure do, Calvin! You are so nice to me and my mom. Mom says you are the nicest man she has ever fucked. She says you are very loving in bed. I want to do sexy things with you too because you are so nice to me. Guess what! I am done my homework, so I can go to bed with you right now! Let’s go!” She took me by the hand and led me to her mother’s queen-size bed in her boudoir.

The suddenness of this development left me little time to question whether or not I should be bedding the daughter of a client, even if she wasn’t a minor. (Jennifer told me she had turned 18 the previous month.) Jennifer looked so utterly adorable in the Donald Duck t-shirt and bright red skirt she was wearing that I lost all resistance to not fucking this very eager sweetheart.

I had hoped to undress Jennifer as a bit of foreplay, but she disrobed in record time, throwing her clothes in all directions before literally leaping onto the center of the bed. I took a little longer to get into my birthday suit—but not much longer. I had no idea if Jennifer had any sexual experience at all—I somehow doubted it—so I took it slowly with her. We embraced for at least five full minutes, exchanging kisses and gropes of each other’s private parts. My dick was fully erect in anticipation. Jennifer had the typical bust size of a girl her age, perhaps slightly larger, taking after her mother. After one long passionate kiss, I told Jennifer I was about to begin to ravish her.

“I don’t know what that word ‘ravish’ means, Calvin, but it sounds like fun to me!” she said.

I took a position beside Jennifer, flipped her onto her side and gently played with her supple young breasts. Her boobs differed slightly from her mother’s terrific jugs in that they were pointier and had darker areolas. It was great fun and highly erotic. All the while, I was sliding my penis in the crack of Jennifer’s adorable little bum. I was already ecstatic after about 30 seconds of sexual contact with this teen angel.

“Hey, this is fun!” Jennifer exclaimed.

“Jennifer, honey, we haven’t even really started yet! You’ll see!” I informed her.

I then rolled her onto her back and sucked merrily on her beckoning tits, telling her how lovely they were and how gorgeous she was. Jennifer was lying contentedly on her back, enjoying the sensation. I kissed every inch of her girlish torso until I got down to her virgin pussy. It was unshaved. Jennifer reacted wildly when I began to lick and finger it lovingly.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, “Calvin, can you come every week to do this to me, too?”

I lifted my head and laughed. “You really are a sweet thing, Jennifer,” I complimented her.

Jennifer eventually had an orgasm—something new in her life. She was embarrassed and alarmed by the wet spot it made on the bedding. I told her that was perfectly normal. “It’s the most natural thing in the world,” I insisted. “Speaking of natural things,” I continued, “I’m going to fuck that wet, beautiful, sexy, young, gorgeous pussy right now while my dick is hard as a rock.” Jennifer laughed at my overly descriptive sentence.

I mounted my pretty bedmate, spread her legs, and moved in toward her cunt. I placed my dick’s head at its opening, and shoved it in just slightly, perhaps about an inch. Jennifer jerked her body just as slightly in response. I told her to relax— and that I was going to put more of myself into her lovely, tight pussy. I shoved it in slowly as Jennifer emitted a soft “Ahhh…” I pushed a little harder until my full shaft was almost completely inside this sexy young woman. Then I began to slide my penis inside but not quite out of her delightfully tight pleasure box. I was really getting excited and passionate. “Oh, Lord, this is great!” I shouted. (That was something I seldom do during sex.) Jennifer was making passionate, indecipherable noises as I screwed her. She was thoroughly enjoying the pleasures of my hard rod. Finally, Jennifer screamed, “This is amazing, Calvin! Fill me with a big cum shot!”

I was alert enough to reply, “Your wish is my command, Jennifer!” and proceeded to have a world-class ejaculation. I felt four blasts stream from my dick. I hadn’t come this hard in either of my two romps thus far with Jackie—and I gleefully relayed that fact to Jennifer. I warned her, “Now don’t tell your mom, Jennifer. She’ll be jealous!”

Jennifer was wildly insatiable that night. We fucked like rabbits for at least two more hours. Jennifer said it was “really cool” when I blasted a load of love juice across her perky breasts. All this terrific sexual frolicking with a teenage cutie came at a physical cost, though: My penis was sore for three days. I finally fell asleep, totally exhausted.

I really hadn’t intended to stay overnight, but I woke up at 8:15 a.m. on Saturday morning with the still-nude Jennifer wrapped lovingly in my arms. She was still asleep when I planted a gentle kiss on her left cheek—and I sucked for a few seconds on her irresistible right nipple. I got out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen. There I saw Jackie busily making breakfast for three.

“How did you like your substitute lover?” she promptly asked me.

“I guarantee having sex with Jennifer was more fun than your tedious staff meeting,” I joked.

“Tedious?” Jackie said. “Calvin, that’s another English word I don’t know!”

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