Chapter 5

I looked out the passenger window as our military jet took off from Trenton. We flew to the American Air Base in Ramstein, Germany, then the next day on to Nicosia, Cyprus. I thought it was ironic that both my UN tours ended up being in the same part of the world. I’d later find out that Nicosia is only about 520 kilometres from Ismailia but two completely different worlds. As we cleared customs, I thought, “What, no outgoing rotation of guys saying, hi Pinkies?”

I received my in clearance, clothes issue, barrack-room, and my debriefing. Our home base was in the United Nations Protected Area on the west side of Nicosia. My single room was comfortable, similar to any Sergeants barracks back in Canada.

Settled in my room, I was allowed to call home to my wife and let her know I arrived safe and sound. I was informed there was a seven-hour difference between the time zones. At least here, we could call home for thirty minutes twice a week compared to once a week to my parents when I was in Ismailia.

I could hear Donna’s sniffles as we talked, and the sadness in her voice pulled at my heartstrings. I told her the schedule we could use to talk, and we’d fill the between time by writing letters back and forth.

As a group, we were dispersed to different parts of Cyprus, and most of it, I wouldn’t see again until our flight home. The area where I was to work came under the command of the British contingent, who has a permanent Base in Nicosia of about 3,500 personnel. We’d be responsible for monitoring Sector Two of the UN-controlled buffer zone that separates the Turkish and Greek Cypriots. We’d do alternating weeks of observing from stationary outposts and doing roving patrols by vehicle.

We were given a brief history of Cyprus and the conflict that caused us to be there and regardless of our political views, to keep our comments to ourselves and remain neutral. It was stressed, that although there has been relative peace in the area, twenty-eight Canadian Servicemen had died in Cyprus since the start of peacekeeping duties in 1964.

Nicosia was a whole different world than my UN tour in Ismailia. Where Ismailia was dusty, smelly and stifled in progress, Nicosia was a Mediterranean paradise of white buildings, rolling hills, and lush green lands.

At least this barrack block building didn’t have holes remaining from motor shell explosions. Nicosia was a modern city of about 300,000 people, and at times, I felt like I was on a six-month vacation. There were several swimming pools on the base and other facilities owned by the British that we could use.

I asked about and soon discovered the Nicosia Golf Club. Between golfing, going to movies, and sightseeing, I wanted to do anything I could to keep my mind off Donna but to mainly make the time pass by quickly.

I settled into my daily routine. The calendar on my end table, I crossed out each day. “One down, one less until I’m with you, my love,” I’d say to Donna’s photograph. I had many pictures of her wearing a sexy low cut top and sexy short skirt or dress, a few in her bikini and a number of her naked.

My letters to Donna started innocently enough but soon turned into being very sex-filled. I’d write what I was going to do to her when we went on our vacation and when I got home. Then I began to write her stories fantasizing about most anything I could think of involving her and in very graphic detail. In my erotic stories, I turned her into my slut wife and a whore, who’d fuck and suck most any cock and loved to eat pussy.

In my letters to her, I’d pretend not to know her and pick her up in a club, and we’d fuck at our table. I had us doing threesomes with other men and women or letting guys seduce her at the Mess. Sometimes I’d stay up until two or three in the morning, putting my erotic thoughts to paper and would end up jerking off.

My routine would soon consist of work, relax and write, go to see the nightly movie even if I didn’t like it, sometimes have a beer at the Mess, then resume letter writing until I was too tired. On my days off, I’d catch up on my sleep, golf several rounds or try to do something different to pass the time and write!

I was one of only about a dozen Canadians on my tour, and at least fifteen other countries had personnel there from Argentina to the United Kingdom. I liked the British accents and those of other countries I wasn’t familiar with and wondered how foreign my voice sounded to them.

I’d seen a few guys putting away their wedding rings to hook up with one or more tour girlfriends. I was proud and happy to be married to my Donna, and my wedding ring never came off my finger. I’ll admit I had my fair share of chances to cheat on Donna and though tempted, declined any appreciated interest in me. In ways, my celibacy to Donna worked to my advantage because several of the women I came to be friends with, liked my company knowing I wasn’t going to hit on them for a fuck.

I lived for my twice-weekly calls to Donna, and she said my letters to her aroused her very much, and she’d use her dildo wishing it was my cock fucking her. I asked her to write her sexy letters to me, maybe a woman’s view of some of my stories. She became quite good at writing her sexy letters, and two of my favourites were her describing me finally able to fuck Lisa and how she and Lisa became lovers.

Donna said she was doing okay, and her voice seemed less down. She visited her parents quite often, and Lisa was trying to keep her busy too. Donna sent me a package with some Canadian goodies and a special treat. Her treat ended up being a pair of her white panties she’d worn and made herself cum in, while reading my letters. I could see the dried stains from her cum juices and faintly smell her wonderful aroma.

Donna laughed when I said I slept with her cum stained panties under my pillow. “As long as you don’t start wearing them and someone sees you,” she chuckled. I finally heard her laugh and told her how much I missed that sound. “I’ll send you a fresh pair and I wouldn’t mind smelling your cum on your underwear.” I laughed, knowing we were exchanging erotic underclothes.

She told me that Lisa and her husband were getting a divorce and she was spending so much time with her between work and our home she joked that people were beginning to think they were a bisexual or lesbian couple. I told her I’d find it highly erotic if she and Lisa became lovers for real.

The weeks passed into months, and Donna was fantastic at planning a European vacation for us. She had applied for and received her passport and was looking forward to seeing me soon. We coordinated the dates with my UN leave time and would meet for the first two weeks of September.

Donna joked that she’d be my personal tour guide with all the perks of one-on-one service. We’d take a train from Ramstein to Frankfurt to meet our tour company. Our bus tour would take us to Zurich Switzerland through part of Italy to Innsbruck and Vienna Austria. Then we’d go to Frankfurt, Bonn and onto Amsterdam for a day and a half layover.

From Amsterdam, we’d bus to Düsseldorf and cruise the Rhine River from there to Bonn, then finally bus back to Frankfurt. Then four weeks after our ‘honeymoon,’ I’d be home.

Finally, September arrived, and I flew to Ramstein. Donna had arranged for us to stay in a nearby hotel called Flugplaz Ramstein, overnight, for the train the next day.

My pulse quickened, my palms becoming sweaty, the closer her flight arrival time came. Her plane on the ground, I waited anxiously for her to clear customs. I looked frantically trying to notice her amongst the growing crowd of strangers.

Then I spotted a familiar face, though she looked very different. I barely had time to notice her sexy dress. “Rick!!” She screamed, and the last few feet ran and jumped into my arms. I hugged her so tight, I swear I could break every rib on her body and tears of relief flowed from both of us.

“I love you, I love you!” I repeated, and she said the same. Her feet still off the ground, we kissed long and passionately, and I could feel the outline of her bra and panties through the thin material. The hem of her dress rose, and many appreciative eyes looked at her panties.

My eyes were dying from thirst as I drank in the beauty of my wife. “Holy cow, look at you!!” I exclaimed. She wore a blue print dress that was so low, her nipples almost showed, yet I knew she was wearing a bra. The hem of her dress was sexy short, just like a women’s golf skirt.

Her hair was a few inches shorter, and what little makeup she wore was perfect! “Do you like it? Don’t I look sexy for you?” She smiled, turning around.

“Do I ever! I love it! But look at you!!” My eyes were open as wide as could be.

“I’ve lost twenty-five pounds for us. I feel great, energetic and so sexy! Lisa and I worked out together and she helped me to lose the weight,” she smiled proudly.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and neither could many of the servicemen around us. “You two worked out together did you?” I teased.

“Not that kind of working out like in my letters to you,” she replied, playfully slapping my arm.