The field was bright red, poppy, I sometimes thought, what an evil word. Three years in the dusty poppy fields of Afghanistan, a touch of beauty when they bloom in such a desolate place. The colors in Afghanistan were mostly purple or white.

Here, I laid in a field of bright red upon a red and white checkered blanket. The future Mrs. Staff Sargent bouncing up and down on my stiff cock. She had waited three years, with her virginity intact. Evidenced by the red running down her thigh. Now I was hers, and she was mine, always and forever.