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Dating Site Stories: Gino the Small Town Lawyer

Dating site stories provide me some amusement when I’m in my hometown, again, bored, again. Scroll through the meager pickings. Frown.

My hometown is so horrifyingly small that I know many of the people who are on the site. I realize, sadly, that they also can see me in the area, and know that means that I am allowing people I know in real life to perv out on my photos and more intimate revelations and – even through the ability to see whether I’m online – voyeur on my currently unfurling dating site stories. I’m somehow more uncomfortable with people I know seeing my privates than I am with it being complete strangers. Compounded of course by the small town rumor mill that will make certain that everyone knows my business.

This is the cost of me weaving dating site stories. Alas.

I am concerned I’ll come up with nothing for this humiliation and out of slight desperation I set the perimeter I’m willing to drive for a date a little wider. I’m not sure I’ll find anyone higher quality outside the pocket of my hometown into the rural realms of bumfuckery, but hey, why not.

I see a handsome face and stop. Thick black hair. Big lips. Gino looks Italian and he is, third generation Italian American. Third oldest child of nine. He’s a lawyer. A defense attorney, private, one of the very few in a town with a population of under 1000 people.

I wear a skirt and long sleeved shirt and tights to dinner with Gino. We meet at a shitty local Italian restaurant which wouldn’t be bad if it didn’t use crap ingredients. It’s on its second generation of being run by a Silician American family and I note that Gino feels perfectly comfortable in here. 

Some people know him. How could they not. So, I get introduced to half a dozen cronies. I note that most people in this area look worse for the wear. Gino’s a decade older than I am, but you wouldn’t know it, he looks even younger than I do. He hikes and does cross-country skiing, but I think it’s mostly genetic, based on the crap he shovels down while we have dinner.

I have a greek salad. With extra feta. And Patron shots, because why not.

Gino joins me for them and encourages our third. He’s kind of slimy, but self-aware slimy. Full of self-deprecating pick-up lines. We talk about class and rural vs. urban US culture and he does a fair job keeping up his end of the conversation. 

“I live like five minutes from here if you want a place to sober up before you go home.” he says suggestively.

“That’s a very adolescent way to ask me back to your place.” I reply.

“What can I say? I never really made it past my teenage years.” He shrugs.

Dating Site Stories
Dating Site Stories

There’s something about the crooked smile, thick lips, and lock of black hair across his forehead that makes this charming rather than creepy. That said, his house is decidedly teenage nerd. Dusty copies of sci-fi books, video game consoles, rumpled laundry on the floor, no real art, and law books. 

“I don’t get many visitors” he explains. He’s been super careful that I don’t slip on the icy stairs outside his place in an actually concerned way, rather than a “trying to touch me” way. It’s sweet.

I note his genuine concern for weakness as a trait that governs most of his personality. No matter how sleazy he can come off after a few tequilas and some eggplant parm, he still has a heart of gold that shows up in every interaction. It’s why he’s a lawyer, he’s defending the helpless. He has authentic concern for marginalization. 

I find it hot.

And so, after judging his place while listening to him excuse it and telling him that it’s fine and I’m flexible (all true) – I spare him the awkwardness of a consent conversation by furthering dating site stories and asking him straight out for a kiss.

“Can I kiss your big, gorgeous lips?” 

“I was going to ask you the very same thing” he says, circling my waist with his hands. “No really you do have gorgeous lips.”

“Thank you.” I look up into his handsome face, getting ready for the soft, fullness of his…

No. Terrible kisser. Just opens too wide, tongue in all the wrong places. Gino’s lips are made to look at, not to kiss.

I cut it short by kissing his neck. He does smell good, and his skin tastes good. Healthy. He’s hydrated. He really does have the body of a man much younger than he is, and today, after braving the sex desert that is my hometown, I try to delight in small oases. 

Like the cut of his jaw. The cleft in his chin. His thick, soft hands, making their way under my shirt, kneading my lower back, slowly, shyly advancing upwards. Furthering, fumbling. 

I take off my shirt. He stares at my breasts and gasps. Pulls me near his couch and sits on it, burying his face in my chest.

“I wanted to do that the moment you walked up.” he says.

“Oh yeah? You were checking me out?” I ask.

“Of course I was. You’re curvy in all the right ways.” 

I’m stroking his arms, he pulls me into his lap, which is broad and wide and makes me feel small. He covers my breasts with kisses, eagerly pulling them out of my bra without taking it off.

“I’m not really into my boobs.” I say, which is the truth, compounded by the fact that I’m not really into his kisses.

“Well I am.” He says, undaunted. It does turn me on to watch him so entranced with a part of me, even if the sensation does nothing for me.

I slide out of his lap onto the couch next to him and massage his massive, tree trunk thighs. The man obviously spends a lot of time traversing inclines. He moans and grabs my hand and puts it on his cock, a move which I love. 

This is the moment I know Gino and I likely won’t be doing much fucking, as even through his pants I can feel his cock is gigantic. I intake a breath of surprise.

Gino is one of those men who doesn’t know that he has a giant cock. He’s not particularly sexually experienced, only has a few dating site stories of his own, but it seems by now someone should have told him about his relative size. Sadly, it me.

I unbutton his pants and release his dick, hard, long, thick, cut. It’s mesmerizing, extreme, primal. Like a previous version of cock, not yet evolved to be sleek and small like the new models. 

I wrap the fingers of both hands around Gino’s thick candle. He moans, excited to be touched. I massage my fingers along his shaft teasing him, before I cross them through each other and stroke him double-handed. He throws his head back and sucks in his breath.

I stroke him until sweat drips down his forehead and I feel his body start to tense and then during a moment when he lifts his head to look at my I plunge his cock to the back of my throat.

“Oh God!” he cries out.

His cock feels amazing in my mouth. It fills it entirely, no way to suck or tongue him, simply in and out, in and out. Gino doesn’t seem to miss the extras. He’s talking non-stop.

“Oh Jesus that is amazing…. Oh wow.” 

I follow the cues from his thrusting hips and find his rhythm. His cock is warm and so hard. Sounds more like sex than oral sex, his stiff pole ramming into my mouth leaves no room for air or sound. Slick punches. Wet noises that can’t be anything else. 

I stare into his eyes, slowing just a bit to try to smile at him around his dick. Can’t. I can’t move the corners of my mouth. His warm rod fills every inch of me. My teeth scrape him as he rams me. His eyes are wild.

“I’m going to come in your mouth!” Gino says, straining against the couch, trying to get me back up to speed but also trying to respect me at the same time. Watching him stretched across what he wants so desperately but still trying not to harm me has me slick and wet.

I bear down on his cock, working him hard and fast. His body tenses, back arches, and he lets out a scream as shoots his load down the back of my throat.

“That was the best fucking blowjob I have ever had.” he exclaims.

You know, I really don’t ever get tired of hearing that.

I see Gino a few more times. He helps me get out of a speeding ticket in the county. We stay in touch on social media. 

The one time we do try to have vaginal sex, it doesn’t last long. He can barely get it into me and once there I don’t have enough room to breathe let alone for him to thrust. I’m grateful he’s gracious about it. We stick to other things.

Gino isn’t much of a giver. Orgasms involve him asking for help to use his hands to rub my clit until I come, then he’ll pat me on the head and ask if I’m good. It feels purely mechanical and it’s too bad because he has very nice fingers.

The only thing that really works for us in bed is me sucking his cock, and though it’s a very fun cock to suck, there’s only one way to suck a cock that big and the novelty wears off after a few dates. We reach the end of our dating site stories.

Gino is hot and smart and nice, and one of the few lovers I’ve given up due to incompatibility. He’s a great example of why I say “better too small than too big”.

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