I'm standing on a streambank in a suburb near Stanford University. It's a strange spot, behind everyone's yards, neither public nor private--eroded, unstable. I'm a tall, scrawny man with a hippie beard, standing hand in hand with a shortish girl with brown wavy hair, nicknamed Brownie--not for her hair, either. It's because she has to wear the Brown Dress of Shame: a weird little number made of suede or vinyl patches sewn together randomly... like Frankenstein. Her own bare skin shows through the ragged seams, in zigzag lightning-bolt shapes. I touch the strange material--like grubby skin. She's silent, just lets me pet her through the dress and looks at the creek and leans into me a bit. I slide the dress up her thighs, and again she just leans into it a bit and breathes faster. But... under the brown dress, she's naked. I put my hand tentatively to her cunt. She's warm and slippery and closes her eyes and spreads her feet a little.

I understand. While she's wearing the Brown Dress she can't initiate a thing, only respond--quietly hinting what she wants. I lead her to a sandy bank on the creek bend, a bit off the path at least, though we still may be seen from several houses. Then I pull the Brown Dress over her head, and spread it on the sand. Her inhibitions peel off with it! She kisses me deep, then wordlessly pulls my head to her cunt and I start licking. She gasps and giggles and falls over on her side and sucks my whole cock in her mouth--I feel the tightness of her lips and the nip of her little rough teeth and the hot wiggle of her tongue, and on my tongue the sweet-salty girl taste of her, and I feel happy dirty wicked and... what if they catch us here? Good! Let them!

I get so excited something happens I've never experienced: I half wake from REM and yet stay in it--feel myself masturbating in bed, while asleep, in the dream, I simultaneously feel the strange fabric of the Brown Dress rough beneath us, and her smooth rubbery skin as I clutch her to me and thrash and come hard in her mouth and she makes a soft little cry and starts coming, I can feel the pulsing in my lips and tongue, and we purr and twine fingers and slowly relax in the warm sun and fall asleep in the dream, my head on her thigh, hers on mine... feeling...

Triumphant.

Because at last, at last, at last... we beat the Dress of Shame.

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