He looked at her through half-closed eyes and said, "I figured as much." It wasn't possible to tell if he was just entering into the spirit of the joke or if he was perfectly serious. Ursula's clit gave a little twinge.
Upstairs, Antonia said to her father, "why did you start giggling just then, Dad?"
"Well, TV is the term used by certain people for a guy who dresses in women's clothes. So when, in the middle of our orgy, a guy knocked on the door and said, 'TV repairman', it just struck me as funny."
"What a sense of humor," Antonia said, rolling her eyes.
"Doesn't make you laugh, eh? Well, we'll see if this makes you laugh." And he started to tickle the beautiful, naked girl while she squirmed on the bed and tried to get away from him. She was giggling furiously, and of course the giggles were completely audible downstairs. The TV repairman gave a glance in the direction of the staircase, and then shrugged his shoulders as if to say to himself: Why should I give a fuck what they do?
He had the back off the TV, and announced to Ursula's surprise that the repair was a minor one that wouldn't take long. She brought him a can of cold beer, and he sipped on it while working on the set.
Ursula was watching him, and as she did so an impish idea came to her. She remembered what stock figure repairmen are in certain jokes, and she was curious to see just how far this man's imperturbability would extend.
She sat on top of the set and chatted with the repairman. She also started to work the hem of her skirt up her thigh, which was only inches from his face. Although he couldn't help seeing the creamy skin, and Ursula knew what magnificent thighs she had, he didn't seem to be paying much attention and he certainly didn't seem gay, either.
This is getting to be a challenge, Ursula thought. Almost all her thigh was exposed, and there couldn't be much doubt about her intentions, but he still was intent on fiddling around inside the TV.
Maybe he has a capacitor instead of a prick, she said to herself, just a bit peeved.
"Mr. Mahoney," she said, reading the name sewn on his shirt, "is that beer nice and cold?"
"Yup."
"Would you do me a favor?"
"What?"
"Use the cold can to cool me off a bit here?" And she pulled her skirt the rest of the way up, exposing her crotch. She had gotten dressed in such a hurry when he had appeared at the door that she hadn't put her panties on, but had just shoved them under the sofa. The result was that one of the pinkest, cutest cunts that a guy could hope to see was staring Mr. Mahoney in the face, and that face continued to remain completely imperturbable. He reached his hand out and pressed the cold beer can against Ursula's cunt. She gave a little shudder of pleasure. That cold metal really did feel kind of neat on her glowing warm labia.
"That feels so nice," she said, "but I bet your tongue would feel even nicer. Would you like to lick my twat?"
"Just wait until I get this tube fitted," he said, continuing to work on the TV. Then, he turned and moved his head up to her cunt, while unzipping his pants.
Ursula spread her thighs a bit farther apart, and then said, "would you like me to suck your prick while you lick my twat?"
"Yup."
She got off the TV set and lay on the floor. Mr. Mahoney got into the appropriate position, and started to lick Ursula's lovely pussy.
Flick! His tongue darted quickly across her labia and clit. Flick! Flick! Flick! Mr. Mahoney was pretty good. Ursula wondered vaguely how many other woman had offered to let him eat them out in the course of his career as a TV repairman.
Well, it was only fair for her to repay in kind the nice attentions which he was giving her cunt. She started to kiss his prick, beginning at the base and gradually working up the length of the shaft. Then, she slipped her mouth over the knob and began to tease the piss-hole with her tongue.
Ursula had given plenty of tongue jobs in her day, and as she recalled, most men responded to particularly nice action on the part of their partner by some appropriately nice response. But Mr. Mahoney continued as imperturbable as ever. Not that he wasn't doing a good job on her cunt. It was pretty obvious from the way he maneuvered that tongue of his in her different feminine nooks and crannies that he was very familiar with twats and with bringing pleasure to them. But he didn't respond in any real way to her. There was nothing "together" about what they were doing.
He was bringing his tongue across her labia in big licks, coating her already wet womanflesh with his saliva. Then he slid his tongue down into her vagina, pressing the tip of it against the delicate cunt-walls.
She had his prick way into her mouth now, and was sucking away on the root while moving her mouth in such a way as to cause the tip of the thing to rub against her palate. Then she slid her lips back along the length of the shaft several times in quick succession.
Everything else about Mr. Mahoney might be imperturbable, but it was obvious that his prick was pretty excited, at any rate. It was one of the stiffest ones which Ursula had ever had in her mouth! And the balls, which she was caressing with her fingers, were pulled up very tight against the prickroot.
Man, does this guy ever know his stuff! she thought as she felt his tongue slide back and forth along her glowing labia. He was really winding her up now like, nobody's business.
She pressed and squeezed her breasts while continuing to suck. Her nipples were incredibly swollen and excited, and she kept giving them loving little tweaks and pinches.
Suddenly, she felt a shock hit her cunt. Mahoney's tongue grazed across her clit. She pressed her lips against the spot where his knob joined the shaft.
Suddenly, they were both coming, with his tool shooting a terrific amount of hot cream into her mouth while her pelvis bucked and heaved against his face, even as his tongue continued to lick her superexcited cunt!
"Mr. Mahoney," she said as she finished swallowing his spunk, "you're really good."
"Thank you," he said. "I've been to repairman's school and I've been fixing sets for fifteen years, so I figure I should be pretty good at it."
"That's not what I mean!" Ursula said, driven almost out of her mind with exasperation. "Look, I've given you a blow job and a can of beer, so how about leveling with me. What's with all this disinterested crap? You obviously like twat once you get it."
"Lady," he said, "it's like this. As a repairman, you meet three kinds of women. Type A – there aren't many of them – just want their sets fixed and aren't interested in your prick at all. Type B just wants to tease you, and Type C want you to fuck them."
There was something about this funny methodical explanation which really fascinated Ursula.
"Yeah?" she said.
"Yeah. Now, you're not going to fuck Type A because they just aren't interested. And you certainly are going to get to fuck Type C, because that's all they're interested in. So it doesn't matter how you behave in regard to them. So all you've got to worry about are the teases of Type B. And, lady, nothing turns a tease into a hot piece of ass faster than thinking that the guy isn't interested in her. She keeps going farther and farther so as to tease him, and finally there you are."