"It's," I though,
Almost Erotic a moment. "Addictive?"
I knew that, or suspected there must be some sort of endorphin reward, until I tried it.
I love this gun, and whilst he reloaded it, I had a moment to think about it. I must say that it isn't Almost erotic. I had gotten over my jitters, and looking at my hand. Amazed at how steady it can be, even with my heart thrilling with the excitement.
The anticipation, and almost popping off a shot as soon as I got it in my shoulder. I took a pounding from it, he says this 2 something calibre. It isn't 5.56 Nato, but he called it Light Shooting. I almost wish it were more.
PWH! "Uhn!" Is this normal? I was afraid, and shivering with the cold. I can still feel the damp soaked through the shoulders of my jacket, but I have to just take it off. I'm hot, sexually arroused, and with the immediacy of the need. I Needed to feel that again. The recoil, shaking me to the core, the Power, I don't care about the target. Of course, I need to practice this. Lining up the cross hairs, and moving up so that the tick Above it.
(T)
+
PWH!
"Huh!" I surprised myself, not even making the decision to pull the trigger, it just went off, and I yanked it. I know, he told me not to. Squeeze the trigger, don't yank it, and my heart is beating out of control. I'm panting, and sweating. My fingers shaking as I reach up for the handle, and "I need to stop."
I don't want to, I need to.
"That last one was way off." I'm amazed at how rapidly he can do that. Holding it up, with the legs sticking aout, and jacking the handle to spit the bullets out. Look at him, dear lord, the last time he looked so.
"Huh!" My hero, I know exactly when I looked at my husband, and saw a hero. It was that ruffian, with the knife. It wasn't until he handed over his wallet, and mine. He had to take my purse, and open it, with me frozen to the spot. I couldn't scream, or look away from the knife, it froze me to the spot. Paralyzed with fear, I had no idea until we got to that car.
He called the police, and took out his holster from the small of his back. Not only the pistol, the entire holster, to speak with the police. I asked him, why he hadn't shot him?
"He had a knife." It took quite a bit of explaining, as he locked it up in the glovebox, it made it easier to talk to the police, being unarmed, and I understood that part, but he had the presence of mind not to. "He would have cut you, or me, long before I got it out of concealment. A gun is too slow in a knife fight, and as soon as he got it out, it was a knife fight, that close."
"Oh," I didn't know what else to say, but I don't believe that it is like this for him. He never had the fear, of handguns especially, drilled into him. My father, and uncles had guns. Shot guns, and rifles mostly. My grandfather's Drilling, that is a combination of both on the stock, and it always struck me as a thing of beauty. German werkmanship, a Merkel, with fine polished wood, checkering, and arabesques filled with brass on the metal bits.
Pistols, and handguns, however, were Illegal. Always something a criminal would have, like a sawedoff. Picture a badguy, in a knit cap, and a mackintosh, standing behind the muzzle and charge-hols of a pistol, that was the nightmare.
Now, I am proud to carry it. This rifle, My rifle back to the car through a break in the rain. "Wouldn't want it to get wet." I want to take care of it, My rifle, "Do you believe that I may be ready for a pistol?"
"Whelp," he rubbed the back of his neck, so I embraced him, held him, and felt the fringe of his hairline, whilst he kissed me. Time to think about it. Pulling back to look me lovingly in the eyes, breathless with anticipation. "You've gotten over your fear?"
"Oh yes, I'm quite looking forward to it."
"Well, then, we'll have to see. What I can do to find you one that fits your hands."
In the car, driving back to the city, with My rifle safely in the boot.
"That's one of the main reasons why sidearms are more advanced." He gripped the steering wheel. "See, with a rifle, you have the stock, both hands on it, and the bipod to steady it. With a handgun, you basically have just the one hand, and that's how you control it. The site picture, and inherent accuracy aren't as important, if you can't get a good grip on it, and all I've got are high capacity pistols."
"A revolver." I remember, the confusion when we discovered that Pistol means Revolver in England, and a self-loader here. "A powerful one."
"Well, they've got an indoor range, at my favorite gun shop. So, I guess we can stop by, and see what they have in stock..."