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Dean helps Jennifer Lopez relax before a concert.

She thanked me for the compliment, then she changed the subject.

Back at the room we watched some TV to relax, teasing each other as I surfed through 57 channels of drivel. In one show there was a bikini-clad actress on the beach. It sticks in my memory because when I moved on to the next channel Allison taunted me. "I thought you'd stay longer on that one," she said with a laugh that turned into a giggle. It was good to see her laugh. But soon we agreed we were both tired and decided to turn in.

I sleep in the nude, but we removed our clothes in total darkness at opposite sides of the room. After a restless night, I got up early, took a shower, and dressed in the bathroom. When I came out, Allison was standing there in a cotton nightgown, holding her clothes, apparently all business and ready to get back on the road after her own shower. We passed in the doorway with perfunctory smiles. "Morning," we said in unison. I sat on the end of my bed and opened our map to check the day's route.

When she came out, I immediately turned the TV off and reached for my pack.

"Wait," she said.

I turned to see her freshly scrubbed face. Her hair was combed, but not quite dry. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Since she didn't believe in bras, Allison's white peasant blouse had already given me a little peek at her breasts. Now, to my utter amazement, she crossed her arms and lifted the blouse over her head, exposing her hairy armpits. It was then that I got a good look at her pert nipples arising from small areolae. They tilted up. They were so beautiful, perfectly proportioned for her slender build.

Then, before I had a chance to react, she shoved her jeans and panties (she would have called it underwear) to the floor. It was the biggest thatch of pubic hair I had ever seen. Black of course, and unruly. But soft, not wiry. "Whoa," I thought. But then, smiling enthusiastically, she lay down on her bed with her knees up and opened her legs wide. There it was, the "gash" -- what the novelist Tom Robbins has called "the vertical smile." No worries. Her open slit, pink and glistening, pushed everything else from my mind, demanding my full attention. It beckoned me, with life's most urgent imperative. I was so excited that I practically dove between her legs. I licked her labia, inner and outer, slowly at first, up one side and down the other, as my hands grasped her hips and traveled upward to those breasts. I cupped them, then lightly, ever so lightly, pinched the brown nipples. I had her in the "rock lobster" position. "Yeah," she said with a sigh.

She smelled and tasted so fresh. I know I called it a "thatch," but up close I learned that her abundant pubic hair was not at all like the close fur of an animal, and not at all matted or tangled. It was just fragrant, curly hair. It was not difficult to part that hair and find Allison's clitoris. I teased the slippery nubbin with my tongue, which elicited a sharp intake of breath. But I then I moved my mouth lower, sticking my tongue slowly, gently, into her vagina. She liked that, too. Her juice was flowing heavily now, sticky and sweet. I brought my fingers down from her breasts across her tight, flat abdomen into her bush, massaging her mound. When one finger found the precious button, Allison started to squirm. I held her by her slim thighs. Her knees were still up. Her legs, unshaven for many months, were hairy but not outrageously so, and again the hair was soft, which turned out to be turn-on. Then I tongued her delightful gash from asshole to clit, where I took the bud in my lips and began to suck.

"Uhhh, uhhh, uhhhhhhh," said Allison.

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