As a photojournalist on assignment, I had traveled to this militant housing compound just outside Chicago, Illinois. It housed nearly three hundred Islamic Afrikan Americans whose recent political antics had begun to invite national media interest, and I was there to try to get to the crux of their furor. The Movement was headed by some 36-year-old, would-be prophet, who wanted drastic social change in America. His credo was that a horrendously catastrophic occurrence had to take place in America before any kind of valid, wholly beneficial social/cultural/political change for "all people" could be realized. And he was loudly declaring that he was "a vehicle" sent to precipitate that catastrophe. At the outset, their protests had been the usual outcry against racial/social injustice and a demand for equality. But lately there seemed to have been some radical Islamic infiltration with the movement, which resulted in a bit of newsworthy insurgencies. So I was there to ferret out to what degree that radical Islamic influence was; and to what degree they had planned to travel with their revolutionary premise.

I spotted Zakkah. He was carrying a several books as he stepped out of a corner grocery store. I waved Hello and he came bounding over. He is a magnificent example of Afrikan American adolescence; sort of an angelic brown jewel in a sea of angry, disillusioned Black faces. I had interviewed him the other day when I began my assignment here. He was the eighteen year old brother of Amuoktan, the would-be, 36-year-old prophet. Yet, Zakkah seemed to be far more evolved, intellectually and culturally, than most of the young addicts, alcoholics, drops-outs and religious freaks that comprised the personality makeup of the followers at the compound.

"Hi Mr. Madison, how are you?" he smiled, "How's your work going? Have you found what you're looking for?"

"I'm fine Zakkah. And please, call me Joe. And, no, I haven't found what I'm looking for. I really don't understand your brother at all."

Zakkah laughed. "Few people do, my friend. Amuoktan is as deep as the sea; as vast of the universe. You will never be able to understand what is behind his inscrutable mind."

I looked at Zakkah. He had the same smooth, subtle, sensuous tone in his voice as his older brother. But he was obviously more in tune with rational thought. "Why are you here?" I asked him. "What's in it for you?"

Zakkah shrugged. 'What else is there for me? I was born and bred to be part of this Day of Reckoning cause. There is nothing else in the world for me but this"

"And that's the way everybody else here feels, isn't it?" I asked.

Zakkah nodded.

"Then tell me, Zakkah, what REALLY are you all fighting for?"

"We are fighting to obtain equality in a land that continually marginalizes us. We feel like refugees in our own land. With the labour of our mighty backs, we built this land. Therefore we should participate in the immense prosperity and inordinate wealth of this land. And we will not rest until we are all able to live in financial equity, peace and harmony with our White brothers. And if a great earthly transfiguration should occur to aid us in our crusade, then, so be it"

It was obvious that Zakkah had been stuffed to gills with Amuoktan's rhetoric. He couldn't give me any real insight to Amuoktan's military crusade. Yet, I really liked Zakkah. He was so bright and pleasant. And without doubt, he was really a sexy little somethin'.

I invited him back to my hotel room. "If you don't mind, I want to ask you some more questions about your brother's philosophy" I smiled "there are just a few more things I would like to know. ok? And besides, lunch is on me! How's that sound!?"

Zakkah offered up a huge generous smile at me and said sure, and followed me to my jeep. I wanted him. I really wanted him. He stirred my juices the way no other male had in all my 28 years. It was bizarre. It was beautiful. He wasn't wearing a shirt. His thin, hairless, eighteen year old body looked exceptionally gorgeous as it glistened radiantly brown in the burning, summer afternoon sun.

When we neared the hotel I told him to toss on a sweatshirt that I had on the backseat of the jeep. That way I could avoid any unnecessary stares when we walked through the lobby.

Entering my hotel room, I told Zakkah to take a seat on the couch as I walk on toward the mini fridge to get a couple of cans of cold soda pop. But Zakkah knew what I had in mind, and threw his arms around my waist and began grinding his had young body against mine.

Wow! I didn't expect it to be so easy. He was really a hot number. I could feel his hot, rigid prick under those baggy jeans, pressing hard and urgent, heatedly poking into my thigh. Leaning back, I un-did my necktie, as he swiftly pulled off the old sweatshirt. He then helped me unbutton the buttons of my shirt, sensuously sliding the shirt off my back. Even though he looked like a little teenage thug, he was so graceful, so soft. I reached for his head and held it in my hands for a while, gazing into his beautiful, sparkling, hazel eyes that so eloquently burned with jungle lust.

I kissed him. I kissed Zakkah hard, pulling him to me. I kissed Zakkah hard and long for a long time. It was so glowing and warm and so damn good. I explored the cool, seductive mouth of this young, gentle Afrikan prince, swishing my searching tongue over teeth and tongue, slowly probing into his throat. He was small. Five-foot seven to my six-foot. I had never before held someone who wasn't bigger than I was. Zakkah kissed me back, albeit somewhat awkwardly. I could tell from his lip movements that he hadn't had much experience in this department, if any at all. But he was certainly a willing pupil. His degree of sexuality was exceptional.

My dick was raging wildly inside my damp boxers. I was hot! Zakkah reached for my belt buckle and undid it, almost yanking my pants off with one tug. Then, as he undid the belt around his baggy jeans, they fell to the floor, rapidly revealing the most magnificent ebony body I had ever seen.

Just as his baggy jeans had dropped, so did Zakkah drop, to his knees, and rapidly took my angry cock into his hands; stroking it, squeezing it, caressing it, until it looked as though the cock had almost stretched beyond the limits of the skin that contained it. Never before in all my twenty eight years had I seen my prick so shiny and so fucking stiff. It hurt so damn good!

He put his mouth on my raging, quaking prick, covering the head with an avalanche of hot little kisses. In my burgeoning delirium I looked down to check out his boner. I was surprised at the size of the hefty member, as it sliced the air between his little, muscular, chocolate brown legs. Was even more surprised that he was uncut. I'd never encountered an uncut man before, let alone an uncut, teenage boy. Reaching down and grabbing him under the arms, I pulled him up. I then took my turn at doing knee-duty. As my face came in contact with the huge member I was completely mesmerized by the strong, intoxicating aroma of young black male sexual arousal. Wow! My eyes literally teared with the scent of happiness. Trembling, I stroked and kissed that big, black dong while Zakkah moaned and groaned and wildly thrust his trim body into my face.

This position was too uncomfortable. I wanted to lie down, wrap my arms around Zakkah, and feel his young, hard, black body next to mine. Frantically picking him up, I carried him to the bed. Laying him on his back, I instantly scooted down between his legs to get at that humongous cock. I sniffed it, kissed it, licked, and loved it. It was even a little bigger than mine, and Zakkah was ten years my junior. I felt a pang of jealousy shoot through me, the way it always did, whenever I encountered a cock bigger than my own. Its pure vanity I know, but I simply can't help myself.

I finally had to taste Zakkah's cock. I wanted that black truncheon inside my mouth being savored by my tongue and lips. The strong pungent aroma of the youngster's genitals seduced me onward as I hungrily massaged his sweaty, cum-bloated balls.

My cock was throbbing and burning so pleasurably, that it was difficult for me to think about anything at all. I didn't want this feeling to ever end. It was the happiest I'd ever been during sex. I was completely fascinated by the kid's foreskin and the delicious scent that it concealed. Yet, it seemed to me to be the strangest thing I'd ever seen. It was hard to believe that I had a foreskin myself at one time, had one, and it had been cut off.

The foreskin was fairly tight around Zakkah's dick. It could slide up and down rather easily though. I was able to slide it up far enough to even cover the head of Zakkah's cock, cover it completely! Wow. Strange...but delicious!

All this inspective attention to his foreskin seemed to delight Zakkah to no end. Every time I brought the foreskin over the head, he would close his eyes, wildly squirm, and hotly mutter something that I didn't understand. He was loving it! He licked his full sensuous lips with pleasure. I licked his foreskin. I slipped my tongue inside the skin, sliding it up and down with my lips. Then I went to work on the shiny, bulbous head of that phenomenal dick. I had neglected it for a while, not letting my mouth touch it. But it was touching it now. My lips were wrapped around the head, and I was greedily sucking on the shiny black cock now.

Ordinarily, I don't like giving blowjobs at all. I can't take a cock very far into my mouth without it triggering my gag-reflex. And I can't deep-throat at all. It makes me a little embarrassed. But I wasn't going to get embarrassed now. I was going to more than make up for my past deficiencies in the throat department. I was going to make Zakkah's cockhead throb like never before, make his dick ache like never before. I slid the foreskin up over the top once more, then greedily popped the dick in and out of my drooling mouth. Zakkah squirmed and moaned loudly in ecstasy from the thrilling friction of his dick being so rapidly slipped in and out of my hot, slobbering mouth.

In a way I was fucking his dick with my pussy of a mouth. Not all the way, of course, but the head of the penis is the most sensitive part, and that's where I always concentrate my attention. I would let his dick slide in only as far as the ridge of the head, then I would hold it there, tickling Zakkah's pee-hole with my tongue. Then, I'd let the dick slide out again. In and out. In and out. I kept this steady rhythm up for a while, until I knew that Zakkah was on the edge of exploding. Right when he was going to burst, I switched into high gear. I was flailing on that dick now, applying immense heated pressure on the head. Zakkah moaned in crazed, rapturous pleasure. He cried out something - screamed something - in an Islamic tongue. I winched for a moment, embarrassed that his loud screams of pleasure might be overheard.

But, damn, I wasn't going to let anything stop me now. I too was in my own zone of heightened sexual exhilaration. Methodically, I fondled Zakkah's balls in one grateful hand, and stroked his foreskin with the other. It was like a three ring circus. Zakkah couldn't quite fully concentrate on any one particular sensation at once. They all pleasurably blended together for him. Right hand - balls. Left hand - shaft and foreskin. Mouth - on the head

Nobody's dick can stand up to that kind of attack for very long. Zakkah's was no exception. The creamy cum came blasting out of his hole. I drew my mouth away and let it splatter the ceiling and the wall behind the bed, also using it as a lubricant for my stroking left hand that still happily pumped the erupting shaft. I also took my mouth away, because I don't like to swallow cum. I don't know why, but I just never have. It's so hot and salty. Sure, I've done it a few times, but only when someone's shot into my mouth when I wasn't expecting it.

Zakkah threw his arms over his head, his eyes tightly closed from the mind-blasting ecstasy, as he stretched and arched his tight, muscular little body high on the bed, feeling the tingling sensation that his explosive orgasm had produced from the top of is head to the tips of his toes.

He had the most wonderful smile on his face when he finally opened his eyes. I could tell that I'd given the teenager one of the best, if not the best, orgasm he'd ever had in his young life. Reaching up, he placed his hands on my shoulders and kissed my forehead. He was so generous and loving. So grateful for the attention I'd given him. Sitting up on the bed, we embraced again.

"I want you to fuck me." he whispered. "I want to feel you inside me!"

it was hard for me to believe what I was hearing from this little macho street warrior. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to be fucked. Scrambling to the middle of the bed, he positioned himself doggie-style, his firm, round cheeks spread wide, as his slightly hairy, little asshole repeatedly winked at me. Aaaaaaa, what a sight. I slowly introduced my forefinger inside that tight, tiny hole. My big prick was aching and quaking at the sight of the sweet, puckered anus that was begging to be fucked. He said he had never allowed anyone to touch him sexually and he wanted me to be the first. And, for some reason I knew that to be the truth.

I couldn't wait to feel myself inside the teenager, feeling my dick pounding hard against those sweet, virginal inner walls. I dropped some spit on my cock that was already oozing great amounts of pre-come, which really would be lubricant enough.

"Fuck me," he moaned, wiggling his little butt, "Fill me up!"

He was hot. The heat rose from that black satiny body in abundant waves. His ass was so small, round and tight. I ran my hands across those firm, velvety buns, as Zakkah moaned and groaned in blissful appreciation, and anticipation. Bringing my wet, sticky cock up to that sweet moist anus, I pressed against the rectum.

"Yes, oh yes!"

I put it in. Zakkah shuddered briefly with several sudden quick intakes of air then returned to quietly moaning once again. I worked my dick in slowly, inching it deeper and deeper, feeling his tight asshole gradually expand around my invading cock, widening that innocent entrance until my cock was able to slickly slide in. His ass felt so damn good. I love to fuck virginal boy-pussy.

And I was really fucking Zakkah now, fucking him good and hard. My cock was sliding all the way in, buried deep inside his boiling ass. It felt so damn good. I held tightly onto his hot, satiny black hips as I fucked. Zakkah moaned in utter ecstasy. His arms were flailing and stretching in front of him as he wildly shoved his little ass back into my stiff, intruding prick. He kept muttering words under his breath that I couldn't make out, but knew they were words expressing his thrill and enjoyment.

We were both getting off, me doing the fucking, and him doing the taking. My cock was slipping in an out of his taut slippery hole with amazing ease now. My cock burned and throbbed with unimagined want. It was aching. It was aching real good! I was loving it, and didn't want to come too soon. But I couldn't slow down. I seemed driven by some inner need to brutishly pump Zakkah's ass as hard as I could. No, it was my cock that was controlling me now, to make me think and act as I did. And it wanted satisfaction..... it wanted to come, despite my efforts of trying not to!

"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah! Hell, yeah" I screamed

I was in heaven. I had left the narrow confines of this earth far behind me. I was floating - I was soaring, on the electric waves of burning lust that mercilessly scattered throughout my body, searing through my brain, and catapulting me far out into the distant heavenly cosmos.

Oh, no, it was happening. I could feel it burgeoning in my gut, in my balls, and from behind my eyes. I could no longer stop it....could no longer sustain this wondrous, self-transcending bliss. My cock was exploding. It was erupting magnificently! A glorious burst of sizzling fireworks. Oh yeah! Oh Yeah! Oh Yeeeaaahhhhhh!

Two hours later, as I drove Zakkah back the ten-block distance to his brother's militant housing compound, I realized that I was going to learn more about Black people than I had ever imagined; especially from one person in particular.