Colt Dragoon Revolver

All persons in this story in any type of sexual situation are 18 years old or older.

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When I moved to a new school my junior year of High School Sharon Spencer was one of the first people that I met. We did not have an instant romantic attachment, but we were on the same intellectual level and both played power forward in basketball so we had some things in common and almost instantly we liked each other.

I also met Sharon's parents, Bill and Debby, shortly after I met her. I was surprised at how warmly I was greeted by them and how nice they treated me. I didn't realize until several months later why they were so welcoming -- they saw me as a way to get Sharon away from her predilection for associating with "bad boys."

I, Carson Trent, am not, never have been, and never will be what is classically considered a "bad boy." In fact most people would consider me a straight arrow.

The conventional characteristics of a "bad boy," and who Bill and Debby objected to Sharon associating with, include rebelliousness, charisma achieved with a devil-may-care attitude, lack of respect for authority, cockiness, lack of emotional expression, and often narcissism and propensity for violence -- although also usually tempered by rugged good looks. James Dean's character in the old (1955) movie "Rebel Without A Cause" is a classic example.

Despite Bill's and Debby's desire for Sharon to have a romantic relationship with me, for most of our junior year we were just friends, including friendly enough to attend most of each other's basketball games where we were both starters on the men's and women's varsity teams, respectively.

Things started to change after the school year when we went to the same co-ed basketball camp for two weeks during the summer. For some reason there our relationship changed in the matter of a week. I can't really explain why, but I suddenly started being fixated on her feminine characteristics -- especially her perfect ass and thighs, and flowing lustrous brunette hair -- and she seemed to like my often diabolical smile, broad shoulders, and apparently the bulge in my pants.

Things changed precipitously when during a co-ed game (two girls, three guys on each team) near the end of the first week of camp Sharon was violently knocked down by Jim Collins, an asshole on the other team. I wanted to kick the shit out of him right then but didn't want to get expelled from the camp, so I helped Sharon up, made sure that she was OK, then bided my time.

From the way that he acted after the knockdown apparently Jim was the only person in the gym that didn't know that I was going to retaliate. I waited for the perfect opportunity which came a few minutes later when he grabbed a rebound -- that I let him get -- and threw it out to start a fast break. I cleverly, with everyone else watching the ball, tripped him, causing him to fall flat on his face, skin his knees, and look like a clod. I ran past him after tripping him without looking at him -- I only learned about the skinned knees afterwards -- and ran down the court.

Jim was apparently interested in instant gratification -- the thing that I had avoided -- and came after me and hit me with two punches right in front of the head counselor and one of the coaches who was a big name starter for a Big Ten college team. Since I was sure that the head counselor and coach were watching I let the first punch land on my shoulder, blocked the second punch, and then landed a perfect head-butt on Jim's face, causing blood to spew everywhere.

Jim went down on his back, screaming, and ineffectively holding his hands in front of his nose trying to stop his blood loss. He got immediate medical attention, the game was called, and the big name college player (who knew exactly what had happened) smiled at me and gave me a fist bump.

Since with his own eyes the head counselor saw Jim as the aggressor I wasn't disciplined. Jim knew that he wasn't going to be able to safely play the next two days because of his injury and was suspended for a third day since he threw the first punch, so he left camp in a huff.

That night after dinner Sharon and I took a walk under a star-filled sky when the temperature was perfect and there was a light breeze. When we were in a secluded area she abruptly stopped, got a sinister smile on her face, and said "So are you some kind of paladin, or what? Did you think that you had to come to the aid of a poor helpless maiden in distress like me?" she continued as she pushed her right index finger into my chest.

"No," I grinned, "I thought I'd take the asshole who knocked you to the floor out before you retaliated and beat the shit out of him because I didn't want you to get booted out of camp."

"Why not?" she asked with an even more sinister grin.

"Because you have the nicest ass and thighs in a three state area and then I wouldn't be able to ogle them anymore," I snarled in reply.

Looking back on it, I realized that what happened next was truly amazing, serendipitous, and unpredictable to the point of absurdity; but happen it did.

I lost my virginity;

on a much less than comfortable forest floor;

to a woman who I was quite sure wasn't losing her virginity at the same time; and

in a way that was fantastic and without the awkwardness that many guys experience their first time.

One reason that it wasn't awkward was because even though I had no actual experience I had read books, and watched videos, and I am a quick learner. I didn't realize until after I had experience, however, that the main reason was because my male part fit Sharon's female part so perfectly that it was like they were crafted for each other.

If the venue wasn't so uncomfortable I would have loved to suck Sharon's surprisingly hefty naked tits for at least an hour, and she would have loved to fondle my lime-sized testicles for at least that long too, but we got up and returned to our cabins as soon as the glow of our climaxes dissipated.

After that night we had a romantic relationship -- and I got to practice my newfound biggest joy in life many times in much more comfortable surroundings.

While I had always liked Sharon from the first day that I met her when I overlaid her phenomenal sexual attractiveness and performance over that like, I fell hard for her.

There was no doubt that Sharon liked me too -- but much to my consternation she insisted that we weren't exclusive. I didn't like it but I had no option but to go along with that, but in hindsight I realized that she was looking at it in a mature manner. "We're too young to be tied down to each other. I can see a future where we bond for good -- but since we're both only 18 years old it's just too young to commit."

Since we weren't exclusive, and since the girls in my High School and community (even if they went to private schools) seemed to share information a lot more than I would have ever shared with other guys, I had many other options for practicing my carnal abilities my senior year in High School. While Sharon and I dated each other more than anyone else we did date others too normally (but not always) without jealousy or rancor.

After basketball season our senior year, however, we had a falling out. Despite of -- or maybe because of -- her parents not-too-subtle lobbying for her to exclusively date me she broke a date with me for one Saturday night with a bogus excuse -- an out-of-town family obligation.

There was something about the way she broke the date that got my spider-senses tingling. That night I called up Debby on a bogus, although legitimate-sounding, pretext and found that she was surprised that I wasn't out with Sharon. I made it sound like we were both doing other things that night and I don't think that Debby caught on.

I went out looking for Sharon; when I saw her kissing, then getting on the back of the motorcycle of Jared Young, the best known "bad boy" in town, I was furious. No matter how much I liked Sharon I saw no future with her if she hadn't gotten over what I coined her was bad boy "phase," which I incorrectly thought that she had overcome. Plus the lying was a killer.

Obviously Debby told her that I had called on Saturday night because Sharon called my house (this was before every teenager had a cellphone) Sunday around noon. I had made it clear to my mother -- who answered the phone 90% of the time -- that I had no interest in talking to Sharon. My mom merely relayed the message that Sharon wanted to talk to me, which I thanked her for and then went to the gym to lift weights. Since I never called her back, after dinner on Sunday night Sharon showed up at my house. Since I was outside when she did I couldn't avoid her.

With a cautious smile Sharon approached me with a nonchalant "Hi Carson; did you get the phone message I left for you?" She seemed to be angling for a hug. I stepped behind a rocking chair on my front porch to preclude that possibility.

"Yeah, I heard," was my deadpan reply.

"Why didn't you call?" she asked with some trepidation since she recognized my ploy of standing behind a rocking chair for what it was.

"Because I have no desire to date you until you both get out of your 'bad boy' phase and stop lying to me, that's why," I snapped giving her a dirty look.

My words and look set her back slightly, but Sharon is intrepid so she started to say "Well I guess that I should explain..."

That's all that she got out before I said "I made my position clear. Give your explanation to someone who gives a damn, because I sure don't," and then I turned and stormed into my house, closing the door hard behind me.

For the next two weeks when I saw her at school I merely said "Hi" and never stopped to chat. I also started an exclusive relationship with Bethany, a girl who lived in my neighborhood but who went to a private High School. Since Bethany and I also had male and female parts that meshed nicely (though not as nicely as Sharon's and mine) we had a good time together until we went to different colleges after the summer was over.

Two weeks after I broke up with Sharon as I was finishing lunch after all the others at my table had left she sat across from me. "I know that you don't want to date me anymore because I lied and went out with Jared, but I value your friendship; can't be at least be friends for the rest of the year and not have things awkward between us?" she asked.

I thought about it for a few seconds. I did like Sharon and the fact that I wasn't interested in dating her anymore shouldn't control my attitude since we were good friends before we became romantically and sexually involved, so I said "Sure; but never any discussion of dates with others," as I held out my hand. She shook it, and we walked next to each other to our next class (the only one that we had together).

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Sharon and I went to different colleges. I went to an excellent small liberal arts college and played Division III basketball. Sharon went to the largest state school and played club basketball. We saw each other during the summers and often hung out together, sometimes just by ourselves. Being one-on-one with her was hard, however, because if truth be told, although I tried to fool myself that it wasn't true, I was still in love with her. While I had more than my share of relationships in college no woman rang my bell like Sharon had!

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After my senior year in college, two weeks before I started my first job, my parents insisted on giving me a graduation party. It wasn't until I got home that I was told that it was a joint party hosted with the Spencers, Sharon's parents Bill and Debby. I was surprised by this since even though I knew Bill and Debby and they liked me I didn't ever know my parents to be friends with the Spencers.

"So, Mom, what's the deal with hosting a graduation party with the Spencers? I didn't know that you were friends with Debby."

"Debby and I have gotten to know each other over the past couple of months, and I know that you used to date Sharon, so when Debby suggested a joint party I was all for it," Mom smiled.

"You didn't think to ask me?" I inquired, although not in a hostile tone.

"No, most of the people your age that are invited are friends of both you and Sharon and by sharing costs with the Spencers we can have better food and drink," she smiled.

I always had a great relationship with my Mom and could never get mad at her -- but when she smiled, turned and started walking away, and then as a throw-away line said "Plus, who knows maybe you'll rekindle your relationship with Sharon," I knew something was up. In fact, that comment made everything clear. Bill and Debby had always hoped that I would be Sharon's long-time mate and I'm sure that thought was behind the joint party. I wondered if Sharon was part of the plan -- but then dismissed that as ridiculous.

When I got to the party the ridiculousness of Sharon being part of the plan evaporated at first contact.

When she slinked into the Community Hall which was the venue for our joint party there was no doubt that Sharon looked better than she ever had. Sharon had always been at least a 9.5 on the 10 point sexy scale; now she was a 10. She obviously had been religiously working out, her hair had even more luster than in High School, her face and body had a natural luminous tan, and she had done something with her light makeup to even more intensely highlight her piercing cobalt blue eyes. I was temporarily speechless -- and then overcome with lust when she immediately came up to me and planted a quick, but meaningful, kiss on my lips.

As the evening progressed it became clear that the event was a setup to get me to focus on Sharon and that she was a willing participant. I could fight it, overthink it, or go with the flow; I chose the latter option.

When the party was winding down as Sharon came back from the washroom she stopped at the DJ and obviously made a request. "Last call," the DJ announced, as a slow song started to ooze over the JBL Partybox 310 speakers.

"This is our song," Sharon chuckled as she wormed her way into my arms. No more than ten seconds into the dance she shoved something into my front left pocket "A party souvenir," she whispered into my ear. It sure felt like a pair of panties but I couldn't be sure -- but would find out later that I was right. As the song neared the end, with her right leg between mine which had caused my little soldier to salute she whispered "I sure wish that we could end tonight at the Westin on Broad Street; I have a room reserved."

Those words almost made me spontaneously came in my pants.

I moved her away from me and stared into her soul as she returned the stare. "What gives?" I asked.

"I want you back; I'm done playing the field; I want the only man that I've ever loved," she replied with as serious a tone as I had ever heard from her.

Twenty minutes later we were in Room 1812 at the Westin; and it was like Tchaikovsky's overture of the same name was encouraging me on as I simultaneously licked Sharon's pussy, stimulated her G-spot, and twisted one of her pencil-eraser hard nipples. After her volcano-simulating orgasm when I reached for a condom she stopped me.

"I need to feel you completely inside and to flush out my womb," she snarled before planting a kiss on me hot enough to liquefy lead.

My titanium-hard cock was in desperate need of attention and had stolen most of my blood from my brain so I didn't argue. Instead I buried myself in her hot, wet, pussy in one frantic stroke, eliciting spontaneous guttural sounds from both of us. Sharon wrapped her muscular thighs around my waist as I simultaneously sucked her left tit while my hips mimicked a jack-hammer. Our synchronized orgasms were debilitating putting me -- and from her sudden limpness Sharon too -- in a twilight zone so euphoric that I never wanted to regain full cognizance again.

As we bleary-eyed, with aching genitals, ate breakfast at the Westin dining room the next morning between mouthfuls of omelet Sharon nonchalantly informed me "By the way I got a job in the same city as yours. I know that you haven't gotten accommodations yet but I have an apartment about two miles from your office. I thought that we could save money by cohabitating it."

While she looked at her plate, or the surroundings I stared at her. "Would cohabitation include sleeping together?"

Then Sharon looked up and gave me a laser stare. "It's only a one-bedroom apartment with no fold-out couch. However I'm sure that I can count on you to be a gentleman and not try to fuck me one day a week."

After a pause we both burst out laughing.

Cohabitation with Sharon resulted in sex so much better than any other in my life that it was in a different solar system, and led to us getting married one year after our night in Room 1812, much to the joy of both of our families.

Most engaged couples register for presents. Since Bill and Debby ran a department store and were well off we didn't do that -- they provided all of the household things that we needed. Instead, we asked guest to contribute to one of three different charities, although some still give us presents. The most unusual presents that we got were an old-time ice cream maker from Sharon's maid of honor, an anthology of college basketball from Naismith through the present from one of my groomsmen, and a Civil War pistol from Sharon's paternal grandfather.

The Civil War pistol deserves further mention because it is the most unusual gift either of us ever received. I remember seeing it at Sharon's house one time when her grandfather was visiting when we were juniors in High School. For some reason Sharon was always fascinated by it even though she had little to no interest in other guns.

The pistol was a third generation Colt Dragoon Revolver, one of only 10,000 produced somewhere between 1851 and 1860, and one of only a handful in the entire world still operable at the time that we got married. It was not a replica. It used paper cartridges and conical lead bullets; her grandfather gave us about a dozen of the cartridges and bullets too as part of the present. Sharon had shot the pistol twice in her life, both times when she was in High School, a total of about ten bullets. Her grandfather shot it about twenty times, a total of about 100 bullets. We initially kept the gun in a glass display case in our bedroom, but rarely showed it to friends. It became even more precious to Sharon when her grandfather died 18 months after our wedding.

When Sharon had the Colt appraised after her grandfather's death the estimate was that it was worth between $35,000 - $40,000, flooring both of us. After that we stashed it away in a bank safe deposit box; we thought that was a better option than paying a significant premium for getting insurance on it, especially since it was so rare and had sentimental value for Sharon. Fortuitously, as it turned out later, almost no one except Sharon's parents knew that we had the gun.

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Our first four years of marriage were in one word "great!"

Both of our careers were progressing nicely even though Sharon's was somewhat mysterious to me since even after she explained things I didn't understand it, and I only met a couple of her female co-workers. We had a good cadre of friends, we often worked out or played pickup basketball together, enjoyed local theater and community events, and we went to parties or clubbing without ever getting drunk.

Since we were both bringing in more money than we thought that we would at that age -- twenty eight years old -- we bought a small fixer-upper house and had fun planning what improvements we would make and worked together about eight hours a week on various projects that spruced it up and/or enhanced its livability.