Love Around the World 25: Ypres

A/N - Like nearly all of my stories in this category, there are no lengthy, detailed sex scenes. Sex is mentioned but it's brief at best. It's all about the love, baby!

Previous stories in this series:

Love Around the World - Andorra (Mature)

Love Around the World - Bangkok, Thailand (Interracial)

Love Around the World - Colombia (Transgender)

Love Around the World - Dresden, Germany (Romance)

Love Around the World - Estonia (Group Sex)

Love Around the World - France (Anal)

Love Around the World - Guangzhou, China (Interracial)

Love Around the World - Hungary (Incest)

Love Around the World - India (Interracial)

Love Around the World - Japan (Mature)

Love Around the World - København, Denmark (Transgender)

Love Around the World - London, England (Transgender)

Love Around the World - Montenegro (Mature)

Love Around the World - Nepal (Romance)

Love Around the World - Oviedo, Spain (Incest)

Love Around the World - Phnom Penh, Cambodia (Incest)

Love Around the World - Quezon City, Philippines (Transgender)

Love Around the World - Reykjavik, Iceland (Incest)

Love Around the World - Sri Lanka (Interracial)

Love Around the World - Tromsø, Norway (Mature)

Love Around the World - Uruguay (Transgender)

Love Around the World - Vietnam (Interracial)

Love Around the World - Wroclaw, Poland (Incest)

Love Around the World - Xanthi, Greece (Mature)

Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.

Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.

Comments are appreciated as always.

Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.

*****

Falling in love while on holiday.

*****

I knew heading to Europe as a thirty-something male would raise eyebrows as I wasn't exactly the age of the usual backpacker. But given my life had fallen apart over the previous eighteen months, I pretty much sold up everything I had so I could afford to just disappear and travel for as long as I wanted.

My wife hadn't been cheating on me. She didn't ask for an open relationship or suggest she was poly. She sat me down one evening and explained she'd always felt desires for the same sex. Asking if she was bisexual, she tearfully nodded and explained that she felt it necessary to explore her other desires. She also knew I wouldn't tolerate that while still being married to me.

At least she was honest with me. Still broke my heart. Still sucked having to explain to people why we were getting divorced. We sold the house that we'd bought, and I moved back home with my mother, almost with my tail tucked between my legs. At least my friends stuck by my side, and my little sisters were there to provide plenty of cuddles as I dealt with the collapse of my marriage.

Although I understood what my wife wanted, I didn't have to be happy about it, and as we had to wait for our divorce, I wasn't interested in remaining friends. I never remained friends with an ex-girlfriend. What was the point? If we didn't want to be together romantically, I didn't particularly want to remain friends afterwards.

"You know," I stated one night over dinner with my mother and sisters, "I put so many dreams and ambitions on hold because of her. I did so willingly because I was in love, but we met in university and all the ideas that I had upon graduating ended because we wanted to start a life together." Sighing to myself, I shook my head. "At least we didn't have any kids."

"Do you know what she's doing?" Mum wondered.

"No idea. I only kept one social media account going and I have no reason to communicate with her otherwise, so I've blocked her. I don't care what she's doing now. She's free to do what she wants."

"Want me to invite Rebecca over?" Jennifer asked, my youngest sister, "You know she's had a crush on you for years now."

"I don't need a pity fuck, Jen."

"Trust me, Mark, it won't be a pity fuck."

I still wore my wedding ring even though my marriage was dead. The divorce wouldn't be complete for another couple of months. Sucks in Australia that you have to wait twelve months though most people generally move on once separated and divorce is inevitable.

"I'm going to wait until it's official. I don't think I'd be cheating. I reckon she's already sleeping with other women... I just want to do it right for me."

"I'll let Rebecca know the day your divorce is official." Jennifer took my hand and smiled at me. "I just want to see my big brother happy."

"I might just invite Chloe over a few days afterwards," Jessica stated, my sister nearest in age.

"You just trying to get your big brother laid?"

"Want me to invite Wendy over, Mark?" my mother teased.

I never planned on being thirty, divorced, single without kids. I was working in a career I did enjoy though it was more a case of doing something that paid the bills and allowed me to save some money. The house sale had ensured I had a healthy balance of savings, and we'd pretty much sold all our contents as I didn't particularly want any reminders. To be honest, I lived a frugal lifestyle while living at home with my mother. I helped her with the meals, but I guess I did become a bit of a hermit, only heading out with friends occasionally.

Jennifer invited Rebecca over the day after I received the Divorce Order that made it official. She was clearly interested in me and I'm not stupid. I'm not going to turn down sex with a beautiful woman, particularly one who seemed as interested in me as she was. Lying together the next morning, Rebecca whispered that she liked me a lot, and she would always be interested in having some fun but knew I probably wouldn't be after anything serious.

"Plus, I know all about Chloe," she added with a laugh, "Your sisters are going to ensure you have a smile on your face in the future, Mark."

"So, are we something like FWBs?" I wondered.

"Yes, except I won't be sleeping with anyone else. I'm far too busy focusing on my career. I think I'll consider you some very nice stress relief."

Chloe turned out to want the same thing. Like Rebecca, she was more interested in her burgeoning career, not wanting to be tied down by a husband who wanted a family. Aware I'd gone through a divorce and perhaps wanting to enjoy the single life for a while, it seemed the two women discussed the arrangement and were happy to share me.

It lasted for two years before I started to feel ready to want a serious relationship again. While I adored Rebecca and Chloe, I knew I didn't feel any major feelings of being in love with them, at least regarding wanting to spend the rest of my life with them.

And when I started to think about ideas I'd once had, the dreams and ambitions I'd put on pause due to the love that I'd had for my ex-wife, it was time to think seriously about what I wanted. Did I just want to settle down again without at least attempting one or more of them?

No. It was time to live life for me. A career that didn't particularly interest me. I was still living at home with my mother. I didn't really mind, living alone in Sydney as a single man is almost prohibitively expensive, even if you're making quite a decent salary. One ambition had always been to go travelling. But unlike most young Australians who would go visit Europe, visiting all the tourist hotspots, mixing travelling with lots of drinking, partying and fornicating, I had a singular interest as to why.

My mother's great-grandfather had been an ANZAC soldier. For those who don't know, ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps. The term was first used regarding the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force that operated during the disastrous Gallipoli campaign of 1915-1916, the force disbanded after the evacuation and re-formed as two separate corps that would eventually serve valiantly and with distinction on the Western Front from 1916-1918.

Sitting down with my mother one evening, I told her of my plans. "I'm going to fly into Istanbul next April and attend the dawn service at ANZAC Cove. I can't visit Europe and not do that. After that, I'm going to fly to either France or Belgium and wander the Great War battlefields, and then I'll switch my attention to World War Two and Normandy."

"Any idea on where you might stay when in Belgium?" she wondered.

"Yeah," I said, opening the map and showing her the country of Belgium, pointing at a small town in the southwest, "Ieper, or Ypres as it's better known by its French name. It's in Flanders. Know the poem 'In Flanders Fields'?"

"In Flanders Fields, the poppies blow," my mother whispered, taking my hand in hers, "I know all about it, Mark. I wear a red poppy every Remembrance Day. ANZAC Day is a larger event here, but I take the date of the armistice just as seriously. I still remember sitting down with my great-grandfather and you just knew he re-lived what he saw every day until the day he died."

"Five major battles happened in and around Ypres. The entire city was destroyed though was faithfully rebuilt afterwards. It's the perfect place to base myself to tour all the major sites. Tyne Cot is nearby. I'll hire a car and do some road trips to visit museums and Commonwealth war cemeteries."

"Any other places?"

"Verdun in north-eastern France. Fromelles. Home to one of the largest mass graves of unknown Australian soldiers. The French found a mass grave of bodies over a decade ago. Thiepval is an enormous memorial to those lost during the Somme Offensive. I don't believe there are Australians named, but it's one of the largest dedicated to the British. I'll pay respects to our Canadian cousins in Vimy. Villers-Bretonneux is dedicated solely to Australia."

"Sounds like it's not going to exactly be a fun holiday, Mark."

"I know. But your great-grandfather fought. My grandfather served. It feels like something I should do. I would like to pay my respects to those who did pay the ultimate price while serving King and Country."

"Next April? That gives you plenty of time to organise things."

"I'll do ANZAC Cove on a guided tour. I'll do some touristy things in Istanbul, and I would love to see Cappadocia. I'll definitely do some touristy things while I'm in Europe otherwise. I really want to go to Germany and Italy in addition to all the war stuff, and London is home to the Imperial War Museum."

My sisters learned about my intentions to travel and were happy for me. Letting Rebecca and Chloe know about my plans didn't change what was happening, both promised that nothing would change until the day I was due to depart. After I left, they would probably move on and find other men, but until then, I would be the only man for them.

Five women saw me off at the airport on the day I left. My little sisters were the first to hug me, covering my face in kisses as they loved their brother as much as I loved them. I knew I'd miss them a lot while I was gone. I was surprised Chloe and Rebecca were next, both of them leaving the sort of kiss on my lips that suggested some deeper feelings than I thought they had. Hugging both of them to me, I could only thank them for helping restore some confidence and showing me the sort of affection I needed after my life fell apart.

"I hope you meet someone over there," Rebecca said softly, "And when you do, bring her home with you and make sure Chloe and I meet her. We'll make sure she's right for you."

"Definitely, though if you come home and you're still single, I'm making you my boyfriend."

"What about me?" Rebecca wondered.

"You can be his mistress!"

I couldn't help laughing as I knew they were joking, but it still made me feel good, to know two women somehow managed to share me for so long. It's the stuff of fantasy, but the relationship had never been particularly serious, spending more time in the bedroom than anywhere else. Physically, we'd been compatible. We would have had to have actually dated seriously to figure out if everything else worked.

Mum was the last to hug me, ever so tightly, that sort of hug Mums always have for their children, no matter how old they might be. I closed my eyes and just savoured the moment. Mum had always been my biggest cheerleader. Dad had left our lives years ago by now and we had nothing to do with him. Mum had done it by herself with support from our maternal grandparents at most.

"You're not planning on staying there, are you?"

"No, Mum. I'm going for a few months at most. I can only stay in the Schengen Zone for ninety days. I'll spend a little time in London. After that, I'll probably just come on back home."

"Good. I don't want my boy living so far away from his mother. And I know your sisters would fly over and drag you home if you chose to stay somewhere else."

"Rebecca and Chloe?"

She leaned back and smiled. "They'd just entice you back with offers of extremely kinky sex."

"Mum!"

"What? You think I don't know what you're up to in that bedroom of yours, Mark?" Feeling myself blush she laughed at my reaction. "Mark, you're a healthy thirty-two-year-old man who has two women who absolutely adore him."

"We do," Rebecca stated, glancing to see her standing next to Chloe, both of them smiling, but I could see their cheeks were glistening.

"Give them a last hug before you go," Mum suggested.

I did just that, feeling both of them clutching me tightly, and when they both started to cry, I knew they had more feelings for me than they were willing to admit. When I started to stammer an apology, they told me to shut up as they had purposely never told me how they felt because of my intentions to leave. Now that it was happening, though, Chloe whispered it was just harder to let me go than either of them expected.

Thankfully, they didn't mention the L word while saying goodbye to me. I'll admit, I loved them both. I could use that word to describe my feelings. But I wasn't in love with them, and that makes all the difference. I'd been in love with my wife. That's why our divorce destroyed me. Leaving Rebecca and Chloe hurt, but it wasn't the same because my feelings were not as deep and intense.

"Want me to keep in touch?" I wondered.

"You'd better!" Rebecca exclaimed, leaning back and poking my chest, "We want to see lots of photos, even though we know some of the subject matter won't be the sort you'd see on a social media app, so maybe only take photos of nicer things."

"And keep us up to date with all your travels otherwise," Chloe added.

"I'll keep in touch, and when I get back..."

"We can be friends and maybe something more. Though you might have to make a choice in the end," Rebecca finished for me, "But we've loved these last few months and years with you, Mark. You're smiling again."

"You're very handsome when you're smiling," Chloe added.

After one last hug, where I honestly didn't want to let either of them go, Mum eventually cleared her throat and suggested that I should probably head through security and actually get on the plane. Having already collected my boarding pass and dumped my luggage, I left a kiss on every cheek possible before walking towards the gates, turning back one last time to wave at them, the five women all waving back and smiling, before I would have disappeared from view.

It was the start of a life-changing experience.

*****

"And what brings you to Ieper?" the pretty blonde receptionist asked before she glanced at my passport again, "Ah, Australian. You know about the evening service at the Menin Gate?"

Ieper was in the Flemish, Dutch speaking part of Belgium though the town in much of the English-speaking world is still referred to as Ypres, the French spelling of the town, mostly due to the events of the Great War. In both Dutch and French, the pronunciation of the town is the same.

"I do. I've done plenty of research before getting here."

"It is an emotional experience the first time for any visitor. All the listed names..."

"I plan on attending the nightly service while I'm here."

"And do you know other places to visit?"

"It's why I have a car. I have a list of areas I intend to visit in this region of Belgium and over in north-western France."

"Make sure you visit the Flanders Fields Museum. And I can give you a list of other museums to visit. There are many in the area, and having a car will make getting to them far easier."

Once she had me booked in and slid over a keycard for my room, she leaned over and grabbed a few pamphlets for me, explaining the various museums and cemeteries that were nearby. When it came to north-west France, I'd done my own research, but she suggested travelling anywhere would be a reasonable day trip.

I'd arrived in Ypres in the early afternoon having spent around a month on the road. I'd flown into Istanbul and after a couple of days exploring the ancient city, I hopped on a bus with around fifty other Australians, and we were driven out on the evening of April 24^th to sleep overnight to wake up in time for the dawn service on April 25^th.

It's a poignant and emotional experience, knowing that thousands of young Australians had been sent to fight and die in a futile campaign. Poor planning, poor execution, poor intelligence, bad training, bad equipment. The whole thing was a complete debacle, and our young boys died due to all that negligence. However, it also led to what led to what is called the 'ANZAC Spirit'. Australia and New Zealand were fledgling nations at the start of the Great War. Our identity as a people and as a nation is often stated as having been forged on those sandy shores of Gallipoli.

The Turkish are also welcoming hosts. They are aware of the history and why the date is so important to us. There is no hatred, only friendship. A welcoming open hand to shake, not a fist. The Turkish also call the area ANZAC Cove. A century after fighting, Turkey and Australia are now friendly, with a large Turkish community now living in Australia, while thousands of Australians visit Turkey every year.

After Istanbul and a short visit to the Cappadocian region, I couldn't visit Europe without visiting Greece as I just had to take in four thousand years of history, then continued to my history theme by catching a flight to Rome and spent a few weeks around Italy. Naples. Florence. Bologna, where I just had to pop to Maranello, the home of Ferrari. Verona and Venice. My last stop was in Italy was a couple of days relaxing in Milan before I caught a flight heading north to Berlin. I knew where I wanted to visit in Germany. The capital alone has such a story to tell in just the past seventy-odd years, I could have spent weeks there alone. Dresden was important based on a couple of nights from February 1945 and the government had spent thirty years recapturing some of the lost splendour. I was far too early for Oktoberfest but just had to visit Munich. Stuttgart is home to Mercedes-Benz, and being a motorsports enthusiast, it was almost a pilgrimage. And then north to Cologne to visit the bloody big Gothic cathedral.

Before Belgium, I stopped in the Netherlands as I wanted to visit Amsterdam, just to see what all the fuss was about. It was heaving with tourists, most of them seeming to be only interested in smoking weed and visiting the Red Light District. I'd tried weed more than once back in Australia, but I just didn't like smoking. I did try some of the baked goods. I did enjoy quite the buzz from that. As for the latter, I wasn't interested in paying for sex. Some of the women were gorgeous, but the idea of having sex with a woman who might have entertained a few other men before me? Nah, not for me. Each to their own though.