Pakistani Tomboy And Black Man

Nadia Khan looked at the tall, dark and handsome African-American man who lay next to her. Hard to believe that a year ago, her husband Omar Jackson considered himself an atheist and a soldier of the United States of America. Now he was a practicing Muslim and a hard-working herdsman and farmer living in the woods outside Multan, one of the largest cities of Pakistan. Gently she kissed him on the lips, and rested her head on his hairy chest as he slept. The miracles of Allah will never cease, the young woman smiled to herself. Anything is possible to the Most High, she said with contentment. How else could one explain how a Godless black American soldier who slaughtered Muslims for fun came to embrace Islam and take a Pakistani Muslim wife?

Omar Jackson was born on February 7, 1987 in the City of Savannah, Georgia, to Shamika Jackson, an African-American mother and Italian-American father, Michael Tartaglia. He never knew his parents, for his father never had anything to do with his upbringing and his mother died he was a few months old. He grew up in the foster care system. At the age of eighteen, he joined the United States Army. He went to fight for Uncle Sam in Afghanistan and Pakistan after the events of September 11, 2001. The U.S. Army gave the young man something he never had, a family of sorts and a place where he belonged. He fought the Taliban in the Desert countries where they hid, and also took on the evil minions of Al Qaeda wherever they dwelled. Protecting America was his priority.

Omar Jackson had a singular hatred of Muslims, whom he viewed as subhuman and good only when dead. He killed so many throughout his time in the Army that his fellow soldiers nicknamed him the Crusader. Once, his fervent hatred of Muslims got him in trouble for he shot and killed five Pakistani soldiers who had been helping the U.S. Mission in Pakistan and when a fellow U.S. soldier intervened, Omar Jackson shot private Katherine Beaumont in the head. Immediately he was arrested, and the incident was heard around the world. The Pakistani government demanded justice, as did the United States Military Command. Loose cannons like Omar Jackson couldn't and wouldn't be tolerated in today's U.S. Army. They threw the book at him and wanted to make an example out of him.

Omar Jackson knew what awaited him. Under the Barack Hussein Obama administration, the most pro-Arab administration in recent times, he'd face the death penalty for sure. He couldn't let the U.S. Army take him back to America. So when they came to transport him from the U.S. Army base in Peshawar to the States, he escaped, leaving three dead U.S. servicemen in his wake. The six-foot-five, caramel-skinned and green-eyed Omar Jackson had always been an exceptional athlete and when he joined the U.S. Army he basically became a super soldier. Growing up in the foster care system he encountered all kinds of creeps, from sexually abusive foster parents to racist bozos and the like. He also dealt with gangs in the rough neighborhoods where he was forced to live. That's where he learned to be brutal and ruthless. In the cutthroat environment where he grew up, the strong survived and the weak died. That was the law of the jungle, applied to the concrete jungle that was Savannah, Georgia.

Omar Jackson escaped from U.S. custody in Pakistan and when the news hit CNN, he became the most wanted man in the world since the death of Saudi terrorist leader Osama Bin Laden. The Pakistani national police force helped the U.S. Army Special Forces team when they scoured Pakistan to find the most dangerous man in the world. Yeah, just like in his youth, Omar Jackson had made a lot of enemies but fortunately, he was one step ahead of them all. Even though he hated the Muslims with a passion, Omar wasn't stupid. In his time in the Middle East he became fluent in Arabic, Farsi and Urdu. Due to his mixed heritage, he could pass for one of the darker skinned members of Pakistani society, especially after letting his beard grow. The guy was born for infiltration, and that's exactly what he did.

For over a year the U.S. and Pakistan tracked him across one of the most populous countries in the Muslim world, and couldn't find him. How could that be? Omar Jackson knew how to stay one step ahead of his enemies. He never stayed in one place too long. Still, even the most wanted man in the world needs a moment of respite from time to time. He is human, after all. That's how Omar Jackson ended up, hungry and thirsty, exhausted beyond belief, and half-naked, in the woods outside of Multan. He'd been wandering for a long time, moving from place to place, until he ran out of money and passed out in the woods. The starving, weakened ex-U.S. soldier was found by a tall, slender Pakistani herdswoman, eighteen-year-old orphan Nadia Khan.

The young Pakistani herdswoman led her goats down the hill near the woods just like she had a thousand times. The life of a goat herder was simple, and boring. Ever since her parents Ali and Rabia Khan died in a car accident in Hyderabad ten years ago, Nadia had been living with her senile grandmother Fatima Khan. The old woman didn't know what year it was most of the time, and this left Nadia with the double duty of taking care of her while running the farm, tending to the fields and herding the hundred or so goats they had. Yeah, Nadia Khan was a busy young woman.

The farming communities at the edge of the woods near Multan City, Pakistan, were among the poorest of the poor. The Khan farm sat in a valley, approximately three and a half kilometers from the nearest human dwelling. Sometimes Nadia spent weeks without talking to another human being. The young Pakistani farm gal was quite lonely. Had she been born into a wealthier family, she would have been married by now. Some young man would have approached her Baba, her father, and asked for her hand in marriage. A dowry would have been agreed upon, then a wedding date would have been set. Instead of being happily wedded to a young man of means, she was alone in the woods, with goats for company. Some life she had.

Given her dreary existence, the excitement Nadia Khan felt when she saw a young man lying half naked in the bushes, unconscious and looking damn near death, could be understandable. Kneeling beside him, she tried to revive him but to no avail. She half-carried, half-dragged him back to her grandmother's farm, her goats dutifully following her through the fields. Upon seeing the stranger, her Nana declared that he was not of Pakistan. He looked like he could be from the Tamil Nadu region of India by the looks of him. Tamil Muslims did occasionally come to Pakistan, but Nadia Khan knew in her heart that the man she rescued came from the other side of the world. As she administered to his injuries, he came awake and mumbled something about America. Grandmother and granddaughter exchanged an alarmed look. Could this stranger be from the States?

Three days later, Omar Jackson woke up, and found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. The last thing he remembered was stumbling, famished and thirsty, exhausted beyond belief, in the woods. He never expected to wake up when he collapsed that day, having narrowly evaded the U.S. Army troopers who followed him. Where was he? Had he been captured? He leapt to his feet, and took a look around. The place he was in didn't look like a prison, a hospital or any military base he'd ever been in. He was in a house, there were family pictures all over the walls. A Pakistani couple and their tall daughter. So, these were his captors. Okay. He'd make short work of them. Snatching a ceremonial Kirpan blade from the wall, he looked for an escape route...and ran smack into a small, short old lady who carried a tray.

Glaring sharply at him, the old lady introduced herself as Fatima Khan and asked him for her husband's ceremonial blade back. Omar stared at her, wondering who in hell this old broad was. They were joined by a tall young Pakistani woman, dressed like a guy, who pleaded with him not to hurt her Nana. Omar lowered the knife, and asked them where he was. You're in our home, the younger woman said, we saved you. Omar looked from one woman to the other, and put away the knife. Thank you, he said simply. The younger woman took the knife and put it back on its place on the wall, and introduced herself as Nadia Khan. After a brief hesitation, Omar told them his name, which didn't elicit any reaction from the women. Would you like some food? Nadia asked, a bright smile on her face. Omar nodded, and joined the ladies at the table.

Throughout dinner, Omar expected Nadia and Fatima "Nana" Khan to drill him with questions but the two women just ate their food in silence. Finally, he broke the silence. He hadn't spoken to anyone in days and honestly, he was getting tired of it. I'm sorry for scaring you, he said, I've got people after me. Nana looked at him and told him that Allah blessed he ( or she ) who helps those in need. Omar smiled, thinking back to his days in foster care. One of the few good people he met in the system, church deaconess Marybeth Jenkins, used to say the same thing about God favoring those who help their fellow human beings. Omar had never given much stock to religion. As far as he was concerned, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, worshipped in Judaism, Christianity and Islam, was fictional.

Omar was nevertheless surprised when Nadia Khan told him that she was looking for a farm hand and he could have the job if he wanted. He considered it. A place to lie low for a while, and hide while planning his next move. You're going to pay me? He asked slyly. The old woman glared at him, her eyes harsh and unforgiving. You get food and shelter from us and that's enough, she said coldly. Omar smiled and Nadia Khan grinned, raising her eyebrows. Are you good with animals? She asked wryly. Omar thought about Monster, the pet snake he once fed his abusive foster mother's rabbit Lester to. I love animals, he said with a smile. Farm work it is.

Over the next few weeks, Omar made himself useful at the Khan family farm. He cleaned the barn, took care of the goats, watered the lawn, and handled his business, as they say. In spite of that, Nana was still suspicious of him. As well she should be, he thought earnestly. Throughout his years, he'd done many things he didn't like in the name of survival. He thought he had it made by joining the U.S. Army. Destroying human beings in a methodical, precise and disciplined manner was something he excelled at. He made real friends in the Army. All he had to do was follow orders, do what came natural on the battlefield and he collected a nice fat paycheck. To date he'd killed forty seven Muslim guys between Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan. He'd also killed four U.S. soldiers but only because they got in his way. The Army he once loved turned against him for doing his duty, killing Muslim insurgents around the world to protect democracy, women's rights and the secular ( Western ) way of life.

Yeah, sounds like Uncle Sam alright, using the Black man and then discarding him once he was no longer useful. Like a bad dog. Omar thought about the dark things he'd seen and done in his life, and for the first time in ages he didn't know what to do. That afternoon he sat in the courtyard, watching the penned goats playing, and contemplating his existence. Nadia and her grandmother had gone to town on business, and he had the place to himself. He'd done his duties and now he was resting a bit while letting his mind wander. He barely noticed when Nadia Khan came and sat next to him. She's home early, he realized. Smiling, she asked him what he was thinking. Omar rolled his eyes. People were the same everywhere, especially women. Still, he was amused rather than annoyed by Nadia's question. I like it here, he said, waving at the farm, and the lands surrounding it.

Nadia Khan looked at Omar, and the look of longing she saw on his dark, handsome face tugged at her heartstrings. She didn't know much about this man, other than the fact that he was an American, though his grasp of Urdu and Arabic was excellent. He talked in his sleep, and when he woke up, he looked haunted. What was he running from? Nadia heard herself ask him the question before she could stop herself. Omar looked at her and took a deep breath, and then he began. I used to be in the American military, he began. He told her...everything. His life in foster care, the hell that came with being an orphan, the abuse he endured, joining the army, losing his best friend to a suicide bombing by a turncoat Afghan soldier, his die-hard hatred of all Muslims, and the Pakistani and American soldiers he killed the day he lost it...

Nadia Khan stared at Omar, astonished by what he said. If there is a God then He must hate me, Omar said, and tears streamed down his face. I should have died back in the States, he said grimly, his massively muscular frame trembling. Nadia stared at him. This man represented everything that she, as a Muslim woman, should hate and fear. He killed the men of her faith and did it happily. He considered himself cursed by Fate and didn't even believe in the existence of God. She should run from him, but instead she practically ran to him. Gently she embraced him, and told him that God had a plan for him. When Nadia hugged him, Omar couldn't have been more shocked if lightning struck him. Smiling, Nadia held his face and told him that if even the most wicked man in the world asked God for forgiveness in sincerity, he would be forgiven. Omar looked into Nadia's eyes, and nodded. Then she kissed him.

Nadia kissed Omar with a passion that surprised them both. The eighteen-year-old Pakistani farm gal had never been with anyone before. No men around these parts, with the nearest farm several kilometers away. Before things went any further she warned Omar. This is my first time, she said meekly. I will be gentle, Omar promised, then slowly undressed her. He kissed her lips, her neck, and fondled her small breasts. He ran his hands all over her slender yet curvy bronze body. He licked the areolas of her tits while his hands spread her thighs, his fingers sliding deep inside her pussy. Nadia cried out in pleasure as she felt his digits inside of her, playing with her insides like a musical expert on a piano. When he licked a path from her breasts to her belly and finally to her pelvic area, she arched her back and spread her legs, welcoming him inside of her.

Omar licked her pussy, taking his sweet time as his fingers and tongue sent Nadia to nirvana. Nadia moaned softly as Omar worked his magic on her, and begged him for more. I want you inside of me, she said. Omar nodded, and gently rubbed his long and hard dick against her pussy. Slowly, he pressed his dick against her vaginal opening. A sharp cry escaped Nadia's lips as he penetrated her. Omar looked into her lovely eyes and asked her if she was okay. The young Pakistani woman nodded, and wrapped her arms around him. Take me, she said urgently. Omar did just that, thrusting his cock deep inside of her. He suckled on her breasts, flicking his tongue over the areolas while making love to her. Nadia dug her nails into Omar's back, loving the deliciously hot pain she felt down below as he took her. So that's what sex is like, the young woman thought. As Omar took her to heights of pleasure she could only imagine, she hung onto him and went on the ride of her life.

Much later, the two of them lay side by side on the grass, looking at the stars in the Pakistani sky. Nadia rested her head on Omar's chest, purring contentedly. Omar took her slender hand in his and kissed it. Tomorrow when your grandmother comes I'm going to ask her for your hand in marriage, he said. Nadia smiled at him and reminded him that as a Muslim woman she could only marry a man from her faith. Omar thought about it. What did he have to lose? The U.S. government wanted him dead, and so did the Pakistani authorities. He could go on the run again and get caught and die or he could stay here in the middle of nowhere with her, and build a new life with her. The choice was obvious. Looking at the star-filled sky, he smiled. If a guy like me can end up with a goddess like you that's proof that there is a God, he said. Nadia smiled and nodded. And his prophet is Mohammed, Omar finished. Nadia smiled and wished him a warm welcome to Islam. Then she grabbed his dick and climbed on top of him. Omar laughed. Indeed, he was starting to love his new religion already!