I was alone, totally alone. It was a horrible fate for a journalist who makes his living asking questions. I was used to being able to get the pulse of a situation, dig until I reached the heart of the matter.

Without words, I was incapable of doing that, incapable of understanding things, the things that made the hidden factors of a city like Baghdad less opaque. I had traveled to a section of the war-scarred metropolis that was best renown for a bulk of the recent insurgencies.

It was getting dark. I had to get back to my hotel. And this was a perfect example of the language barrier. I stopped people in the streets, asking them how to get back to my hotel. But nobody spoke English, at least nobody admitted it.

When I left, everyone in New York City had assured me that I'd have no problems communicating - that just about everyone in the larger cities of Iraq spoke English. Well, I wish all those people who had so eloquently reassured me could be with me right now; as the sun sinks lower and lower, and nobody wants to speak English. My only consolation is that the temperature is dropping, and I won't be roasting anymore.

I began to walk more briskly, desperately looking around for some type of landmark, something that I would recognize to guide me home. But, this was wartime Iraq. What was standing yesterday wouldn't necessarily still be standing today. Insurgency and suicide bombers lurked in every doorway. I began to get terrified. I grabbed a man in a suit by the shoulders, screaming at him, asking where my hotel was. He muttered something in what sounded like German, and yanked away from me.

People were staring at me, the crazy 26-year-old blonde American, as I spun around in the street, trying to decide in which direction to go. If only someone would come up to me, tell me where to go, what to do.

"You need help, mister?"

A voice in English, at last. I wheeled around. It was the attractive, rather mysterious teenager that I had seen earlier in the day. He had approached me in a crowd at Al Tahir Square, in the heart of the city, and wanted to know if I was from America. I confirmed with a nod. He looked at me with large, beautiful black eyes, laden with thick lashes, and smiled broadly. Then said he had just turned eighteen years old and wanted to go to college one day in America. I noticed that unlike most young men his age, he wore the ancient garb of the Middle East, instead of a shirt and trousers. Then, out of nowhere, about fifteen to twenty American soldiers came trooping through the area and he had disappeared.

"You need help, Mister? Ekkar can help you. Don't you worry about nothing. You come with me!"

I felt so relaxed, so relieved to be able to communicate with someone. "Yes, I have to go to my hotel, the Baghdad Towers Hotel. Do you know how I can get there?"

Ekkar motioned with his finger for me to follow him. "You just follow me. I will take care of you."

What could I do? I had no idea where the teenager would be leading me off to, but anything was better than aimlessly wandering up and down those backstreets. So I followed.

We continued to walk down backstreet after backstreet, moving past colorful, cluttered bazaars, poorly-lit tanneries and busy textile mills. The roads were getting narrower and narrower, the houses looking more and more decrepit. As I looked around I realized I had never before seen anything like these oddly-shaped, two-story dwellings.

"Where are we going?", I asked Ekkar nervously. "I have to go to the hotel, you understand, hotel?"

"Sure," Ekkar nodded. "I get you back to your hotel...do not you worry, Mister!"

This put my mind a little bit, a tiny bit, at ease. At least he seemed to understand what I wanted, I tried to assure myself of that much. It was a terrifying situation, but I wasn't scared. There was something about Ekkar that I trusted. He didn't look like a hustler to me, and he didn't seem like he was going to do me any harm.

"You like Baghdad?" he asked, sending me an impish smile.

I laughed. I couldn't think of a response. Did I like Baghdad? I hated it. I wanted to leave never to return here again. But I lied.

"Yes. I like it."

Ekkar smiled. We entered an alleyway. It was dark. There were crates piled high on one side. It looked like a perfect spot to rob an American of his money and do him in.

I stopped. I wasn't going to set foot in there, no matter how much I trusted Ekkar.

He tugged on my arm. "Come on," he said. "It's OK. Come on!"

I ripped my arm away. I took a step backward, back out onto the street and looked up and down. There were people in the street, heading in our direction. They looked far more threatening than Ekkar.

I was trapped. I had no choice but to follow the teenager. We quickly headed into the long alley, my eyes searching every shadow for a killer, an accomplice.

There was nothing, nobody. Ekkar led me by the hand, until we were way behind some piled-high crates. Then we stopped. He looked around making sure that nobody was nearby. Then he moved up to me, placing his hand on my crotch. His fingers landed directly on my cock.

"What are you doing?" I asked, pushing his hand away.

Ekkar just smiled at me. "I like you," he smiled. "I want to suck on you." He put his hand back on my cock. "When I see you earlier today, I knew I must know you better."

I didn't know what to do. There seemed to be no other choice but to let the boy suck me off, and risk the consequences. Besides I was getting excited. My heart had been pounding to begin with - and the moment I felt Ekkar's hand resting on my dick, the nervousness I felt began to change. It was now being swiftly transformed to searing, devil-may-care lust.

I loved fooling around in public places. My high school buddy, Chad, often said it was probably the only wild thing about me. I never had enough courage to do much. He once gave me a handjob in the subway, and once gave me a blowjob in the New York City Library while on a field trip.

Ah, but this environment was totally different, the surroundings so strange, so exotic, so menacing. Yup....the exhilarating thrill of danger. But my mind soon lost all interest in my surroundings.

Ekkar unzipped me, and out popped my dick. It was already quite rigid. I was really excited; my blood was pounding. Ekkar eagerly stroked my dick in his hot hands as he dropped to his knees.

I don't know why this sexy, very attractive, teenager in his cute colorful caftan was so intent on having me, but I really didn't care. I watched as he methodically eased my twitching cock into his warm moist mouth, gently wrapping his perfect white teeth around the swelling head. I moaned. My cock was rapidly growing. Ekkar tickled the tip of it with his stiff, flicking tongue. He tugged on the entire length of the dick, pulling it away from my body with his teeth. His other hand began to fondle my sweaty balls.

This made me even hotter. Nothing turns me on as much as someone stroking my balls when they've got my hard dick stuffed deep in their mouth. I placed my hands on Ekkar's head, tenderly holding the teenager's mouth close over my dick, into my thick, damp, honey-hued pubs. I ran my fingers through his surprisingly soft hair. I lowered my hands to the sides of his face, gently rubbing his cheeks, feeling his jaw stretch open wide to take in more of my cock.

He had to. One thing that I've always been happy about was the fact that I had been blessed with a fairly large prick. It wasn't a monster, not by any means, but it wasn't small either, and skillful Ekkar had made it amazingly hard. My dick was throbbing, burning, aching inside the boy's hot, wet, hungry mouth. I wanted him to suck on it, suck on my meat, suck long, deep and hard on my cock until I shot an explosive load of my creamy Princeton-Grad cum inside his sweet, young Middle Eastern mouth.

This was the last thing I ever thought I'd be doing in Baghdad. I had imagined that I would keep my sex life on hold until I returned to the States. Yet here I was, my second day on the assignment, and I'm getting sucked off by a gorgeous Iraqi teenager.

Ekkar was a great cocksucker. He knew how to make me feel good, how to make my cock throb. The best cocksuckers are the ones who can bring you to the point of orgasm, where you think you won't be able to hold off another second, and then they leave you there, whizzing and twirling around in ecstasy. They can hold you out there in that limbo for what seems like an eternity; as you dizzily teeter-totter on the thrilling edge of climax. That's where I was now, already. I was so hot, I was sure I was going to explode like a nova. But Ekkar kept me going. He would alter the intense rhythm of his tight, sucking mouth, or he would alter the method of intent, like swiftly shifting into a gentle licking and kissing mode, and lessening somewhat the friction on the turgid shaft, only to begin a fiery sucking attack on my cock all over again. DAMN!!! It was sheer, unimaginable bliss.

There are all kinds of heated and skillful stimulations that can lead a man to orgasm. It's really amazing what a cock can go through, and all the methods that will get it hard. But nothing is more rapturous for me than feeling my rigid, itching cock slipping and sliding deeply inside somebody's throat, feeling the entire length of my cock inside their wet, slippery mouths and throats. Aaaarrgghhhh!

Ekkar was really taking it down his pipe now. JEEZ!! He was really deep-throating me. It was a bit of a struggle for him at first with his throat and mouth being so young, and my cock being so big. But he was managing now. He was managing damn well.

I watched his head slide over my cock as it disappeared deep inside his mouth. I love watching people suck on my cock. Actually I love watching my cock going into any sort of opening. The idea that what I was watching was the same thing that was giving me pleasure, has always gripped me with a feeling of utter rapture.

He had taken it all in now. Oooohh, SHIT! My cock was stuffed down his throat, crammed inside him. Ekkar was totally loving it. LOVING IT! He was born to suck cock, from the way he diligently sucked on mine I could make no other assumption about this lusty boy of Baghdad. He was a natural born cocksucker!

My balls ached. Damn, my balls ached! All this time, he had been fondling my balls, gently squeezing them, letting them slip back and forth between his heated, focused fingers. The abundant seed within those balls was rising copiously out of them, I could feel it.

It was coming up, rising up through my shaft. I was going to cum. I was going to erupt. It was happening. There was no stopping it now. Ekkar could feel it coming too. He slowly eased the entire length of my cock out of his throat only seconds before I came. He firmly stroked my meaty rod with his attentive hand one last time; the one last final urging that my sperm needed.

My jism shot into the air, at least eight feet into the air. I'd never shot so far before. It had come out of my cock like a cannonball - and then it just kept coming and coming. Ekkar began licking my cock, taking the hot, creamy fluid into his mouth, and swallowing it down like a thirsty and starving mendicant. For several minutes he vigorously licked and stroked my cock until it was shiny clean, not a drop of cum left anywhere. He then, adoringly, held the slowly shrinking dick in his hands, joyously pressing the shaft against his face, rubbing it against his smooth cheeks in an almost ritualistic manner. He was a cock worshipper. He was a Babylonian Cock Worshipper. As I watched, I was utterly spellbound as an expanding glow of euphoria brilliantly radiated out from his blissful face, while he reveled in my warm, pink Anglo phallus against his beautiful, bronzed, middle-eastern skin.

Alone, later that night in my hotel room, I realized that I'd never ever forget that beatific sight of Ekkar, literally, worshipping my cock. That was communication! I guess under the right circumstances, there is no language barrier at all. Yup....maybe I just might enjoy this assignment after all.