Chechen Muslim Amazon

"The Cold War is over, Sir, I strongly suggest you get used to it," Russian Air Force Captain Yasmin Taisumov said calmly, looking at her counterpart, U.S. Air Force Captain Steven Dwyer. The tall, dark-skinned, muscular serviceman looked good in his uniform and looked like he meant business. As a fellow military officer, Captain Yasmin Taisumov could certainly appreciate that. Too bad Dwyer's demeanor was hostile...

U.S. Air Force Captain Steven Dwyer had been eyeing the detachment of Russian soldiers since they first arrived at the U.S. military base in Colorado Springs for an unprecedented joint military exercise. While a lot of American military personnel didn't trust the pride of Mother Russia as far as they could throw them, they had showed the Russians every courtesy. Dwyer, though, had been the exception.

"Be that as it may, Ma'am, I'd really appreciate it if your men kept to their barracks and other assigned areas for the duration of this exercise, please and thank you," Captain Dwyer replied, in a tone that was polite, but one hundred percent firm. Captain Taisumov looked at Dwyer, seeing right through the paranoid American mindset that so many of the Yankees had when dealing with the sons and daughters of Mother Russia.

"Understood, sir, oh, and it's Captain, not ma'am," Captain Yasmin Taisumov replied, without blinking, and Captain Steven Dwyer nodded without saying anything else. With that, Captain Yasmin Taisumov turned on her heel, exchanging a smile with the Russian detachment as she did so. Along with Sergeant Viktor Gurov and Corporal Mikhail Kozak, she was in charge of the detachment of Russian soldiers sent to the U.S. Air Force in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

"These Americans are really paranoid, and have no idea how exposed they truly are, seriously, if we wanted to know their secrets, we wouldn't even need spies, they post state secrets on the Internet and claim it's just good journalism in the name of democracy," Sergeant Gurov said, laughing merrily. Upon hearing that, the other officers laughed as well.

Captain Yasmin Taisumov nodded, and allowed herself a smile. Tall and thin, with dark brown hair and steely blue eyes, Sergeant Gurov was a career military man who'd been a good friend of hers for over a decade. Still, he didn't know the American mindset half as much as he thought he did. Back in the day, Yasmin lived in America for a time, and got to know her people really well.

As the Russian officers made their way to their assigned barracks, Captain Yasmin Taisumov took a look around the Colorado Springs military base. There were U.S. military men and women walking around, going about their duties. Everything one would expect at a military base. Engineers, techs, medics, chefs, repairmen, and the like. The Americans spared no expense when it comes to their military.

Fifteen years ago, a brouhaha erupted in Russian politics when the Russian government assigned a Chechen-born diplomat, Khassan Taisumov, to the prestigious position of Consulate General at the Russian Diplomatic Mission in the City of Atlanta, Georgia. In those days, with scores of Russian soldiers having lost their lives in conflict against the Chechen people, this was a risqué move on the part of the Russian government.

Khassan Taisumov wasn't just any Chechen politician, he was the proud son of Imam Umar Taisumov of Grozny, Chechnya, and a man hated by his own people for advocating the cause of Russian-Chechen unification. An observant Muslim man, Khassan nevertheless counted many friends among the Russian Orthodox leadership.

Born in the City of Grozny, Chechnya, and educated at Moscow State University and later at Boston University in the City of Boston, Massachusetts, Khassan Taisumov considered himself the modern Chechen par excellence. Khassan firmly believed that there was room for both Christianity and Islam in Russia proper, and that people from both faiths had more in common than they realized. The man was made for a career in the diplomatic corps.

Khassan Taisumov further earned the enmity of traditional Chechen Muslims when he fell in love with a woman from another faith, without making her convert to Islam. Khassan married a Russian Orthodox Christian woman, a schoolteacher known as Valentina Markelov. The couple raised their only daughter, Yasmin Taisumov in the United States of America and in Russia, teaching her to respect both Christian and Islamic religious traditions.

After practically spending half her life in America, Yasmin Taisumov returned to Russia, and began practicing Islam. At the same time, she reconnected with her Chechen roots, and spent a few years living in the City of Grozny, surrounded by her father's people. Upon returning to Moscow, Yasmin decided to join the Russian Air Force. With her father's contacts and her family pedigree, enlisting proved easier for Yasmin than it would have been for an average Chechen Muslim woman.

"Here I am, back in America," Yasmin said to herself, smiling at the pleasant sensation of finding herself under American skies once again. As much as she loved her homeland of Russia, particularly Chechnya, whose blood flowed in her veins, Yasmin had a lot of love in her heart for America. She remembered her younger days in the City of Atlanta, Georgia, back when her father was still with the Russian Diplomatic Mission. Fifteen years ago, life was so different...

At the age of nineteen, like a lot of young people, Yasmin Taisumov chafed under the yoke of her conservative parents. Even though Yasmin's parents were very liberal by Russian standards, they were still strict. As the daughter of Russian diplomats in America, a land where her people were viewed with distrust to this day, Yasmin knew she had to walk a fine line. Nevertheless, the young woman was determined to do her own thing. What a gal wants, and all that jazz...

While living in the City of Atlanta, Georgia, Yasmin Taisumov was exposed to African American culture, and developed a real fondness for black music, and black culture in general. Her parents didn't approve of her friendship with young black folks in their neighborhood, but Yasmin didn't care. Yasmin grew especially close with a young black woman named Tasha Dwyer, whose older brother Steven was tall, dark and handsome. As far as Yasmin was concerned, Steven Dwyer was more handsome than Denzel...

"Yasmin, you're nothing but trouble," Steven Dwyer said to her, as they ran into each other at a gym located not far from Morehouse College, which Steven happened to attend. The tall, dark and handsome young student-athlete, a proud member of the Morehouse College men's varsity swim team, liked working out at a real gym, hence why he went to Barbarossa's Gym, down the street from the Morehouse College campus.

"Trouble is my middle name," Yasmin replied, and she smiled at Steven in a rather provocative way. Clad in a blue tank top and neon-red booty shorts, with her long blonde hair tied in a bun, Yasmin looked like trouble indeed. The Chechen-born Russian beauty looked downright delicious in that outfit. Yasmin stood five-foot-ten, and was pleasantly plump in all the right spots. Steven liked women with some meat on their bones, like a true southern gentleman...

"Shouldn't you be back at the embassy like a good Russian lass?" Steven teased, and Yasmin pouted, then walked up to him and kissed him. Steven surprised himself by throwing his arms around Yasmin and kissed her back. The year was 1997, and even in a racially diverse, liberal place like the City of Atlanta, a black man and a blonde-haired white woman groping each other in public caused people to gawk.

"Shameless," an old white lady walking by shouted, and Steven and Yasmin ignored her and continued to make out. They went to Steven's place, and fortunately, his parents and sister were out, so the couple had the place to themselves. They barely made it to Steven's bedroom in the house basement before they began to undress. They were most eager to get their freak on.

"I'm not a good Russian lass," Yasmin said to Steven, grinning lustfully at him, as he propped her up on a thick oaken table. Steven kissed her once more, and felt her breasts through her tank top, which Yasmin hastily took off. Steven caressed her milky white breasts, and sucked on the pink areolas. Yasmin licked her lips appreciatively as Steven went to work on her. The brother had gifted hands...

"You're one freaky mama and I like that," Steven whispered to Yasmin as he laid her on the table, and pleasured her. The chubby, large-breasted, wide-hipped and big-bottomed, porcelain-skinned Chechen beauty looked glorious, and he couldn't get enough of her. Steven wanted to lick Yasmin from her head to her toes, and so he did. The Chechen beauty was simply delicious...

"Do you like the way I taste?" Yasmin asked, in between squeals, as Steven buried his face between her legs and ate her out. Steven nodded and winked at her, then continued licking Yasmin's pussy. He sucked on her clitoris, and dug his fingers into her wet, hairy pussy. Yasmin moaned softly and rubbed the back of Steven's head encouragingly, loving what he was doing to her.

"You taste heavenly," Steven retorted, munching on Yasmin's pussy like a hungry man. Yasmin squealed, loudly, with wild abandon, and Steven knew he had her right where he wanted her. They continued with their fun, and Steven took Yasmin on the nearby sofa, bending the pale beauty face down and ass up. Yasmin turned and flashed her lover a smirk that was at once lustful and defiant...

"Think you can handle this much booty?" Yasmin chided Steven, as she shook her big round ass at him. Steven grinned and smacked her ass, hard, causing Yasmin to yelp in mock surprise. Steven pushed his hard dick into Yasmin, entering her sweet pussy from behind. Gripping Yasmin's hips, Steven rammed his dick into her, causing her to squeal and making that big booty bounce with the force of his thrusts.

"Shut up and take this dick, and while you're at it, pop that booty for me," Steven said, taking control as he gave Yasmin the dicking down that the Chechen beauty so richly deserved. Yasmin squealed as Steven fucked her roughly, and gave as good as she got, throwing that big round ass back against her lover's groin, and driving his long, dark dick deep inside of her.

"Oh yes, fuck me just like that," Yasmin cooed, as Steven pulled her hair and spanked her big ass while dicking her down. She relished every second of that experience, the hair pulling and ass spanking, and the deliciously hot pain which she felt down below as Steve bruised her pussy with his hard, thick member. They fucked and sucked the evening away, and didn't let up till exhausted. It was a grand old time.

Yasmin Taisumov, proud Chechen Muslim woman and Russian Air Force Captain smiled at the memory. The City of Atlanta, her old life there, and the people she knew were far away. It had been almost two decades. Back then, Yasmin was nineteen years old, and Steven was twenty. They knew nothing about life. Ah, how Yasmin missed those halcyon days. That night, she found herself unable to sleep, and headed out for a smoke.

Yasmin walked to a copse of trees near the center of the Colorado Springs military base, and in the dark, took out her cigarette and lit it. Smoking was her guilty pleasure, and something she'd sworn she would quit. The United States military was now firmly anti-smoking, but fortunately, the Russian Armed Forces were a bit more permissive in that area.

"Don't you know those things will kill you?" came a vaguely familiar, masculine voice which sent a chill down Yasmin's spine. She turned and found herself facing...him. Captain Steven Dwyer of the United States Air Force, Morehouse College grad, and all that jazz. There he stood, looking handsome in his military fatigues, with that trademark cocky grin on his face.

"Well, I'm a gal with bad habits, what are you going to do about it?" Yasmin replied with a smile, and Steven shook his head. When the Russian military high command informed her that she'd been chosen to be among the leaders of the joint U.S/Russian military exercise at the Colorado Springs military base, Yasmin was thrilled. Still, Yasmin never imagined in a million years that she would run into her old friend and former lover Steven Dwyer.

"Well, I could spank you but as I recall, you liked that," Steven replied, cocky as ever, and Yasmin grinned, then closed the gap between them. She stood there, with her face inches from his, and held her breath. Steven smiled, and then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Yasmin kissed Steven back with the passion of a woman who'd done some living, and he repaid her in kind. They kissed like two lovers who knew they might never seen each other again...

"Talk to me, Steve," Yasmin said, once they came up for air, and Steven smiled and nodded. Later, sitting side by side on the grass, in the silent dark, Yasmin Taisumov and Steven Dwyer bantered, the two old friends doing some much-needed catching up. The years had been kind to Steven, he looked good for a man in his mid-thirties, fit, with no gray in his dark hair yet. And he was still more handsome than Hollywood icons like Will Smith and Denzel Washington, and even that Chad Boseman fellow.

In the past fifteen years, Steven Dwyer had served in the U.S. Air Force, and flown missions in Afghanistan, and also in Iraq. He'd also gotten married and divorced, and had a son, Junior, from that brief marriage to a white American woman whom he did not even bother to name. Yasmin smiled at the thought of Steven as a married man, and found that it did not suit his wild, wanton nature.

Yasmin hadn't gotten married, but she'd actually been pretty close, once upon a time. In fact, a few months prior to the joint U.S/Russian military exercise, Yasmin had split from her long-time fiancé, a Circassian Muslim politician named Malik Ozdemir, whom she met in the City of Moscow. Malik was handsome and charming, but a bit too conservative for Yasmin's liking. The fellow didn't believe Muslim women should be soldiers, and expected Yasmin to quit serving the Russian Air Force once they wed. Yasmin jettisoned Malik Ozdemir shortly after he made that stupid declaration...

"Well, Yasmin, I'm sorry about your former fiancé, but I'm glad you're in America," Steven said, smiling at her. Yasmin returned his smile, and when he took her hand and brought it to his lips, she giggled, even as her heart skipped a beat. They hadn't seen each other in almost twenty years, and were in their thirties now, both of them, but it's almost as if time had stopped.

"Glad I'm in America too, and glad you're here with me," Yasmin replied, and, hand in hand, she and Steven talked throughout the night. When dawn came, they returned to their respective barracks. Yasmin felt tired and knew that the day ahead was going to be tough, but she could get by with coffee and sheer determination. Before she and Steven parted ways, they'd exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. Steven promised to get away to come see her. See you tonight, Yasmin thought, smiling in anticipation.