The Dinah in Palm Springs

All characters are over 18 years old. Meets Literotica guidelines.

The Dinah in Palm Springs

CHAPTER 1

My name is Christine.

I am a sophomore in college. Exciting times for me. I had always wondered about my sexuality in high school and being quiet, boys rarely asked me out. They were always reaching for the much more obvious and outgoing women. To be clear, while I am not super beautiful, I think I am cute enough, I just didn't seem to have the drive to chase guys very hard.

So, before college I'd had sex with a total of one boy, sorta. It amounted to hand jobs in a car. To be frank it was exciting to a point, but really didn't get me going the way I thought it should. The whole thing felt awkward. I didn't manage to come and was left with a sticky right hand with no descent place to wipe it off. The guy killed whatever mood remained almost instantly after he had his orgasm, clearly embarrassed because he came so quickly and fumbled his way clear of me pretty fast to 'drive us home.' The whole thing left me unfinished both literally and in my feelings which felt like it morphed into a metaphor for the whole experience of sex with guys.

In short, nothing special.

Which is not to say I wasn't on edge or that I didn't want sex.

I went to college a few months later - still technically a virgin and pretty frustrated and horny. At that age, you know how it is. You are ready, very ready, to give it away and get your rocks off. I had a hot lap and my imagination was going a mile a minute all the time all the time.

I moved into a dorm.

About five weeks into college life, one of the other girls from my dorm spontaneously asked me to come drinking with her and three or four others gals from a couple floors. It was just a gaggle of other women, a random get to know you hen party, but I remember thinking 'At last. The beginnings of a new social life. Separate from high school. The start of the rest of my life.'

In my head and fantasies, I knew a girl's night out would lead to more invitations to this party and that event and the makings of more connections. I am not stupid. Where the girls went, so too did the guys. I went with that in the background of our bar trawl as an agenda.

Not much of a drinker, so I got pretty buzzed and got into an intense conversation with one of the other girls about a couple political topics and we walked back to the dorm together for safety, still deep in talk-talk and me stumbling a bit from the booze. When we arrived, I somehow ended up back at her room,' to continue our talk' and went in.

I did not see what happened next coming.

As soon as the door was closed she had her arms around me and was kissing me on the mouth. I remember I resisted a bit, for a few seconds, pretty much Pro Forma, mostly from surprise and having a girl kissing me instead of a guy. Then it penetrated my foggy brain that it actually felt nice. I eventually returned it. Then it got slow, crazy and eventually hard breathing passionate. It went on. And on. The we were both breathing loudly and she undressed me slowly, on item at a time.

I kept jumping like a colt when she would undo something, fearful and uncertain, but I let her.

Girl or no, it turned me on. To let her. Then, I was naked and her hands were on me, touching me all over and finally frigging me and I was moaning and she was panting and fast stripping herself down to her panties. In the end she did it frantically, clearly on fire, then she was on top of me on the bed and her fingers were tickling me and diddling me and fucking me and it was all really close to my fantasies about how sex should be, but with a girl. Which in the end only made it seem incredibly more erotic and I came in a series of involuntary cries, moans and screams. At least three times too.

I was left totally fucked out and went unconscious. I woke in the morning to find her wrapped in my arms in her bed. I stared at her lying there for forty minutes thinking about how pretty she looked until she woke up. She smiled in my face, this beautiful, radiant smile and taking my hand she pushed it physically down and straight into her panties. I realized all I had done last night was 'take' and not 'give' much and was embarrassed at my selfishness.

If only from a sense of fairness, I played with her for a while until she really started to roll about, getting breathless and moaning and then came with this extended whine and series of loud gasps like swallowed moans that I found fascinating and turned me on again just to watch. Then she came again a couple minutes later which was really exciting and adorable.

As she went off to pee, I realized a line had been crossed. Emotionally. Mentally. Whatever. One of those lines that define you. One in my heart and my head. I had loved it. Really loved it. I decided I was probably gay.

We started going out then and we got around to doing it a few more times. It was fun and sexy. Then one day two months later I saw her walking across campus holding hands with another girl. I thought I was heart-broken; I remember I walked off with tears in my eyes, wandering around campus and sniffling away. Then I was found by Carol and she patiently talked it out with me.

Carol is another girl from our dorm who had gone out drinking with my girlfriend and I one night and we had kind of clicked as friends. To be clear, not lovers. We talked and talked. It helped.

Carol was a slightly bigger girl. Not heavy really, she was an athlete and in pretty good shape, but had these muscular thick strong thighs and solid round booty. Her breasts were sizable on their own, but not proportionally to the rest of her frame -- so they looked rather modest. She topped me by three inches and I am five foot six.

Anyway, despite her comparatively imposing size, she turned out to be pretty nice and sympathetic and kind. She kissed me on the cheek and hugged me while she took the time to really listen to me spill a lot of stuff out, and finally talk to me one on one about what I said, for which I was incredibly grateful. Afterward, I knew it'd all come out and I felt lighter for it.

Towards the end of that talk, she said I should keep trying to get a handle on my feelings and asked me if I was a member of the lesbian focus group on campus where others could talk to me about my sexuality. I was so clueless I had never realized there was such a thing so Carol walked me physically over and stuck her finger into the middle of a flyer that was hanging on the bulletin board in the dorm hallway down from my room which I had never even noticed, looking at me with an arched eyebrow and a huge grin on her face so I broke up laughing at how silly I was.

The group met three times a week. Carol agreed to go with me and I went and was suddenly surrounded by all kinds of girls and women who were gay. It was uplifting and supportive and it helped to talk to other gay women about my sexual feelings and experiences.

In time, it became a nice place to troll for a date too.

I met another gal there who asked me out and we ended up sleeping together. She was a little less hurried than my first and it was sweet and nice, but she was dumb as a lamppost and we had very little in common other than the sex. So, carefully and kindly I broke it off with her as gently as I could and I asked yet another girl out I liked the look of and after her another still.

I was amazed because I eventually realized that a fair amount of time had passed while I dabbled with these other women, and I was now two months into my second year of college I had now slept with five other women. Don't get me wrong. It was fun and I loved the sex, but in my gut and my heart I knew something was missing each time. I'll repeat. I loved the sex, but did not want a relationship with any of the women I had been with.

Something was always missing.

I got kind of pensive about that and my old buddy Carol, my emotional whipping post, listened some more. To be clear, by that point Carol and I were best buddies. She and I had gotten a bit drunk and tried kissing and petting, but somehow it we just never did anything more. It had felt weird just doing the smooching and feeling up stuff, and afterwards I realized I still wanted to be friends with her afterward, just not sexual partners. She agreed, so we never had sex because we both figured it would screw up what we had which was headed for BFF.

Carol had eventually told me she enjoyed the snogging, but felt she was bi rather than full on gay even though she went to some of the lesbian meetings. In the end 'Doctor' Carol's suggestion was that all I really needed a vacation to chase the blues away. Carol could always cut through my bullshit moods like a knife. I felt a rush of adrenaline as soon as she said that.

"Yeah... Oh, Yeah!" I agreed, snapping my fingers.

We were sitting in the campus room that the group used and I looked at the wall and there was this poster hanging on the wall for the Dinah. Now I know that the Dinah Shore Golf Tournament sideshow was one of the biggest lesbian things in the country, but just the notion of it was all so camp. I am young, hungry for the new and the Dinah wasn't. At least in my mind. It had been around for decades and though a couple people in the group had said they loved it when they went, in my gut I just felt like it had just... well... already been done before you went there, so why go. In my head I thought that if I was to go, it would half be to make fun of other attendees. Still, if our little college group had offered me a platform to launch my sexuality, the mental image of ten thousand lesbians all in one place blasted my imagination off into space in that moment and it suddenly became a perfect place to go.

I walked over and mimicked Carol's gesture when she had pointed out the group's flyer at the dorm. I punched finger into the Dinah poster's center and raised my eyebrows at her.

"We are going to the Dinah, girl. You and me!"

Carol looked uncertain.

"Me? Why would I go?" She wrinkled up her face.

I laughed.

"You need to supervise my therapy... Doctor!"

She giggled and grinned at me then and I hugged her.

Long story short, we ended up cheerleading each other into getting some cheapo coach fair tickets to Palm Springs, picked up a tiny car, the most inexpensive the rental agency had and drove it to a sad little sixties era motel that hadn't changed since it was built on the edge of town which was all a couple poor college girls could afford. The nicer places were all booked up for months anyway by the wealthier lesbians, apparently. We partied quietly in our room with a bottle of tequila and a deck of cards. The next day put on our suits and went to the big hotel where the pool party was going on.

Not sure about Carol, but it completely blew me away. There were thousands, literally thousands of women there. All sizes, shapes, colors and any other descriptive adjective you can think of. They were in the pool. Wandering around by the pool. In the surrounding balconies and spaces to the pool. Everywhere you looked there were women holding hands, kissing spontaneously, dancing together, laughing, drinking, talking and socializing. It was incredible.

For the first time ever, I felt like I wasn't just part of a select small group in a college, but a real part of wider society where there were a lot of women like me. A lot. I was no longer different. I was the same as the rest. Carol and I just started talking to people. They were all pumped and friendly. It made them seem free, outgoing and open. Happy to widen their circles and let us in. It was liberating in another surprising way. For once, every person there was potentially a partner. I could feel all the women we met. All of them were checking me out just while I was checking them out. It was wild. Like a background erotic buzz that never stopped. As if I had little vibrator set on low in my bikini bottom, it kept me in this moderate-level plateau of horniness.

Then, after a while, I got hot.

No. No. - Not sexy hot, but physically, environmentally hot. Turns out that Palm Springs is hot! That town is 120 degrees in the open sun and absolutely no humidity kind of hot. The sun was baking us like a potato in the oven. Add to that the fact that we were mingling in close proximity with all these hundreds of hot babes who were all giving off body heat which ramped up the oven another fifteen degrees. I nudged Carol and we ditched out shirts and towels and jumped into the pool to cool off. It was an enormous relief.

Then we saw them.

Two women. They were on the opposite side of the pool and talking a desultory manner. There was just something about them. They were conversing to each other, but I felt their eyes surveying the entire pool area and all those women thronging the place and I could tell... just tell that they were on the make. Sizing people up. Talking about his woman or that girl. Telling secret jokes about what they were thinking. Coming to some decision.

Women was the correct term for them. Carol is twenty and I was still nineteen. They were older.

These gals were very later thirties or lower forties. Essentially, twice our age.

My insides, I don't know, gave this strong twinge when I saw them. There was just this attractive energy coming off them.

Especially the brunette.

The blond sat on the edge of the pool, her long legs dangling into the water. She was clearly tall and had her long hair done up in this sixties model kind of curly pile on top of her head. She wore a blue bikini that had a tall bottom and top that fit right in with her hair. As if it was made for a earlier age. A more modest suit for a more modest time. Yet not modest at all since it emphasized her shape no end. Thing was, she had large breasts. Really large breasts. They half spilled out of her top which struggled to contain them. She had this really good-looking face too. Like a model. Angled cheek planes with only a tiny hint of chubbiness under the chin that just made her look sexier I thought.

"Wow!" Carol said. The quoted Officer and a Gentleman. "Those are some bodacious Ta-Tas."

I wasn't really looking at the blond though. My eyes were almost totally riveted on her companion. Her dark brown hair hung in one of those helmet arrangements where the ends curl up. She lay on a towel sideways beside her buddy and wore this one-piece black swim suit that was overtly modest, but hugged her curves in a way that advertised her form as being all woman. Around her neck, she wore a short string of pearls, like Wilma Flintstone. Something about her. The sight of her. Her appearance. And the curvature! Now matter where my eyes rested there was some new curve that stunned me.