1996 More Fucking Around in Bosnia

Eventually, Luigi reached himself the point of no return, and I had to kick him out, as I had the feeling he wouldn't mind cumming inside me...

The valiant guy groaned once more, pulled on his knees and jerked off between my wide-open thighs, until with a final roar of male satisfaction he emptied his last load over me, spreading long, warm and sticky ropes of cum all across my stomach.

I laughed, coating my fingers with this additional cumload, smearing it all over my belly and mixing it with the previous, larger load which still coated by breasts... You will find my skin all fresh and soft, my love, with all the natural body cream I have been using these days. And it was all for free!

Luigi laughed too, admiring the mess I was, while Giancarlo complained that his precious sofa was getting stained by all the cum I was leaking from my ravaged body...

So that was the end of my wild night out. Giancarlo was pretty pissed but tried not to show it while driving me home together with his friend sitting on the rear seat. He was just unusually silent.

Before leaving them at the underground station, I kissed him lovingly on the check, while I gave Luigi my tongue for a hot French kiss... I had decided already to dump Giancarlo for his better endowed friend, and I wanted to make it clear for both of them.

The evening after, Giancarlo called me at home. He was all tensed, asking me out for the coming weekend, but I cut him short telling him I was busy already with Luigi.

That has been the last time I have heard of poor Giancarlo.

I am a bitch, am I not?

I actually saw Luigi on Saturday evening, and we had some sex on the rear seat of his car, but it wasn't as exciting as I had hoped. Basically, he is quite a valiant lover, but isn't as handsome as Giancarlo, and has no style at all. His car was small and smelly and his choice of restaurant and club was quite poor.

No fun; and no second chance.

My love, I got enough of enjoying my freedom... I just want you back.

My love, come back. Spring is breaking out: all the hills are flowering... And my bed is so cold!

I'm waiting for you...

Karin

***

The first, major sweep in Pale took place in May. A full battalion of the 8th Bersaglieri Regiment surrounded and secured the town, as our Military Police, our Special Forces and some British SAS from the NATO HQ in Sarajevo swept the houses. The Serbs were pretty pissed with us, but neither Dr. Karadzic nor Gen. Mladic, the most wanted war criminals of the Balkans, was found. Quite a number of smaller fish were arrested though, and sent to The Hague for trial.

I was as usual acting as a liaison at the operational HQ, and saw no real action. That was, anyway, my last important experience in Bosnia for the time being.

The turnover had started at April already for the most exposed combat units; privileged guys like me, who slept in containers rather than in tents, had six-months turn; June was my time to go back home, and it was quite nice being aware that we were leaving a place in Europe that looked ten times better than the one we found in December the year before.

My bags in a pile near the entrance door in a room used as a waiting room in Mostar Airport, I was waiting for the Hercules due to take me back home. It was a beautiful late spring day in the Balkans, and it was weeks since the last time I heard a shot in the air.

I was going home to my beautiful wife, and couldn't be happier... Or so I thought.

"Roberto!" I heard a well-known voice calling me.

"Claire! What the hell..."

There were a lot of people around. We shook hands with a knowing smile, and I saw she was in very good shape, slimmer and happier than I remembered her.

We got a coffee at the small Italian canteen at the Divisional HQ, and there I got the story.

Claire's hubbie had been fuming in Paris, waiting for his unfaithful wife and getting lots of shit by everybody for her indiscretion, when reports came in about Fabianne's case. The guy knew exactly who the nurse was, and as he got the report about her outrageous case, all his anger disappeared.

Clearly, she had mounted the entire story about Claire to cover up her own habits.

When my friend had arrived, his attitude had totally changed; Claire found the most apologetic and submitted of the husbands, all too keen to get forgiveness from his enraged wife. How could he believe in such outrageous stories about her? How could he doubt about her?

It must have been because of the distance... He was so sorry! So ashamed... Could she ever forgive his stupid jealousy?

Claire played the outraged wife and insinuated that his suspicions came from his own behaviour: he was the one living in Polynesia after all...

The poor guy had flushed and clumsily denied any charge, turning into a carpet for her to clean her boots with.

Claire's chain of Command shared her husband's point of view, and Fabianne ended up taking all the blame, while the two reconciliated spouses had been sent back to their overseas assignments.

"So far, so good," Claire concluded her story with a wicked smile.

"And so, is your husband back to the Pacific?" I asked with a much more innocent grin.

"Oh, he is the most submitted and faithful of the husbands, I assure you," Claire smiled confidently. "The cuckold doesn't imagine I'll dump him as soon as we will be back to France both of us... He actually tried to bed me while in Paris, but we had separate rooms, and I just let him out in the cold. The upsetting thing is that now I'll have better to behave as long as I stay here...

I grinned: "So it's good I'm heading home..."

"It is. For both of us, I suppose. Give a hug to your wife from me, and tell her she's a damn lucky woman."

I smiled: "No. I'm a damn lucky man."

Claire laughed: "Whatever. I'm just happy I'm not your downstairs neighbour... The poor guy will not sleep much the next nights!"

Our laughs went covered by the roar of the Norwegian Air Force C-130 from NATO HQ in Naples, landing on the short runway of Mostar Airbase.

I was going home.