I am a US Army Medic, and my name is Greg. Most people call me"Doc," even though I am not a real one. It was early March 1945 in Italy. I was part of the US Army assigned to distributing food and medical supplies to the locals. It was a four-man team made up of two PFCs and two sergeants. After being wounded twice, I got this duty instead of being sent stateside.

We got our orders. The two PFCs had a "deuce and a half" loaded and were destined to go to a town with an orphanage. The other sergeant and I had pick-up trucks full of supplies. He wanted to go to the wine-growing region. So, that left me to travel to the East Coast for my delivery. I had medical supplies, "K" and "C" rations, and spam. Most GIs hated all of this stuff, but the Italians were starving and desperate---they thought it was a feast.

After about a six-hour drive, I arrived in this little village and had to find the local padre. It seems that the Nazis had killed the padre. The Red Cross was now administrating the area. I had to find Darla Davidson, responsible for relieving the residents.

My arrival was the event that the locals were awaiting and desperately needed. I met Darla Davidson. She was in charge because she could speak English and Italian. Her job was to keep the region together.

Darla was about thirty, petite, with black hair, well built, personable, and a cute face. I checked her out and determined that if she got cleaned up and dressed to the "nines," Darla would be a real looker. In the middle of war-torn Italy, she was a breath of fresh air.

Darla told me, "Tomorrow morning at about nine, we will start to distribute everything. I should take about two hours, and then we'll have to do some home deliveries."

"Okay, fine with me," I said. "Would you like some of the supplies for tonight's dinner? There's canned meat and some decent "C" rations."

"I was going to make pasta, and the meat would help."

"The canned meat is very salty and should be washed. I'll do that for you."

Darla prepared dinner, and it was great. She enjoyed some American company. Our topic of conservation was the USA.

She was from Pennsylvania, and I was from Arizona by way of Illinois. We were both college grads and tired of the war. It had been long since I had been in the company of an American woman. We started to flirt with one another. Risqué comments, snickers, and innuendos made time move by faster. It made us feel more at ease, and our attraction to each other grew.

As I took Darla into my arms, a glimmer of passion filled her eyes. We kissed, and our tongues met, increasing our passion. We began to explore one another, and our loneliness disappeared. I felt differently about Darla than about any other woman I had ever been with in my life.

For me, she was an extraordinary woman. Slowly and deliberately, my hands moved all over her body. She let out a faint whimper as my hands fondled her breasts and touched her nipples.

"Oh, Greg, I love your touch, but this feels wrong."

"How can it be wrong between us?" I said.

Suddenly, I felt her hand rub my fatigued pants and begin to stroke my manhood. Darla was starting a slow, steady hand job as I was feeling the softness of her breasts. I began to unbutton Darla's blouse and expose her bra and tits.

We were in the middle of WWII, in worn-torn Italy, with the person of our dreams. Nature was taking its course as we undressed one another. We were fascinated with each other. Our passions became more heated as we lay down on her tiny bed. My hands wandered down her body to her womanhood. Her hands were on me. We were driving each other crazy.

My hands found her clit and love canal. I softly flicked her clit and inserted a finger into her body. She was so excited that I quickly slipped a second finger into her.

Now, my penis was rock hard and ready for action. As I began to slide between her legs, she stopped me.

"Greg, please wear some protection. Parenthood is not an option at this time in my life."

I did what she asked and entered her womanhood. She was hot and tight as we began our rhythmic duet. I started slowly, but my thrusts became quicker and more complicated as we made love. We were engulfed in the other person's pleasure.

After about ten minutes, we were both ready for the finish line. The room was spinning, Darla was screaming, and it felt like the top of my head was exploding. We were both at our sexual pinnacle. Simultaneously, we let out a yell as we climaxed. It felt great, and we collapsed in each other's arms.

Darla had tears of joy in her eyes, and I had a smile of total bliss. I told her that when the war ends, we should get married. We could be with each other when I brought supplies to her village. This is our only option. We drifted off to sleep before my departure in the morning.

When the sun rose the following day, I began to kiss Darla. Once again, our passionate kissing started another sexual melee between us. We ensured that this session would last until we were together again. As I was exploring Darla's body, I slid my head between her thighs. I began to kiss and lick her cunt. This was just pure sex. She was moaning and groaning with pleasure as I was licking up all of her juices. She began to utter pure filth to me.

"Fuck, oh yes, your tongue feels so good, don't stop. Make me cum again and again."

I continued to give her as much pleasure as possible. Her words were turning me on more and more. Then, she uttered a request that caught me entirely off guard.

"Get behind me; could you do me from the rear? I want to feel like a wanton animal."

I moved quickly behind Darla, and she put her ass into the air. My penis slid into her pussy. She was extremely wet and ready for action.

This was not going to be a gentle lovemaking session, but two people who were trying to give the other person as much pleasure as possible. It was a savage fuck fest. We were ensuring this would be a time we would never forget. As I tried to shove my cock through Darla, she met my thrusts with arched hips and filthy language.

The war was nowhere to be found; we were busy loving the other person. Our passion was driving us to a dual climax. Darla started to shake, and I could feel my balls begin to tighten. In no time, we were both screaming in unison. Our climax was shown by the smiles on our faces and how much we had enjoyed the sex.

After about a half hour, I had to report back to my base. I told Darla that I would return in about a week. Well, the US Army, in its infinite wisdom, did not send me back to Darla's village for three weeks.

When I got back, Darla was gone. A new priest had replaced her, and he was in charge. She had been sent back to the USA about a week ago. The good thing was that she had left me a note.

Dear Greg, 

I'm sorry that I can't wait for you. If you want to continue our relationship, you know where to find me in Pennsylvania when the war ends."

Love, 

Darla

Today, April 30, 1945, was a new low for me. Almost nothing could pick me up except the most significant news of the war.

The radio blurted out the following report. "Adolf Hitler and his wife/mistress have committed suicide. The war will be over soon."

People would go home to the USA and be discharged from the US Army. Now, I had a decision to make. Do I go to Pennsylvania or go back to Arizona?

After my own mental debate, it was time to go to the "Keystone State" before returning to the Southwest. I told her that we should be married and wondered if Darla would like the Sonoran Desert. The ball was now in her court. She had a decision to make about our future.

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