Singer’s Story

By: David Divers
(© 2008-2009 by the author)
Edited by: Madison Cole

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 7
Another Step, Free at last...

I was now an (almost) sixteen year old emancipated adult with a hit record and his own corporation. I even had a complete set of corporate credit cards and the identification to go along with them.

When Chris was ready to actively begin searching for songs for our joint album, he contacted my Daddy. As soon as our schedules permitted, Chris came to pick me up at the hollow and took me to Nashville. Daddy promised that he would have some duet-type songs ready when we got back, but we also needed to see what other songs were available from the writers in Nashville. I took clothes to last for a full week stay. Chris had reserved rooms for us at a local downtown hotel and we checked in separately.

I was quite proud of my new platinum credit card, and when I laid it on the hotel desk the clerk acted like he thought I might have gotten it out of a pack of bubble gum. I whipped out my cell phone and hit speed-dial and handed the clerk the phone. When my attorney’s secretary answered, she informed him who I was and that my credit cards truly were platinum. My bags were immediately taken to my room and the alcohol in the mini-bar was quickly replaced with soft drinks. The clerk apologized profusely and said he had some songs he would like me to listen to. I told him that he would have to submit them to my attorney’s office and he would have someone on the staff review them. In Nashville, after all, it seems everyone is a song writer.

(NOTE: A singer or aspiring songwriter cannot afford to listen directly to unpublished songs that strangers try to give them. Whether the material is any good or not, they can later claim plagiarism—that you copied the tune or lyrics or idea from their song and used it as your own).

Before our new legal arrangements, the label’s A&R (artists and repertoire) department and the producer could dictate what songs the Stone Family could record. My Daddy’s songs were great, but there was no guarantee that they would be on a CD if the label said no. Chris had managed to get artistic control of his own production several years earlier, and he had quite a bit of experience in that area already. Now Billy Ray and the Stone Family were able to select and produce their own music as well.

Because Chris was an established star, he could have first pick of anything that was written by most music publishers. It was a privilege to have a song on his CDs, because even a marginal song received royalties if it was on the same CD with a hit—and Chris had lots of hits. Now that I also had a hit, I would have the same privilege.

After I got settled in my room, Chris called and asked if I was ready for lunch. I told him I had just showered and would throw on some clothes real fast. He told me not to bother, explaining, “You know what I want for the first course.”

When I answered the door, Chris waited until I barely had it closed and then grabbed me. Our lips met for the first time in months. I was wrapped only in a damp towel and he grabbed the knot I’d made in the fabric and ripped it off my body. Chris knelt before me and rubbed his cheek all over my hard cock. He stuck out his tongue and began licking it from my balls up to the tip of my cock and back down, over and over. After a few minutes, he backed off and just stared and nuzzled it for a few seconds and then returned to licking it. Chris opened his lips and allowed my cock to enter his mouth. He lightly grasped it with his lips and laved the underside of the head with his tongue. The only sounds in the room were his fevered breathing and my murmurs of pleasure. I eased back toward the bed and he followed me on his knees. As I sat, I tried to pull him up on the bed with me, but he resisted.

I wanted my turn ... but I was quite beyond control—I was only a man by the law’s decree; mentally I was still a greedy boy. I put my feet up on the bed and spread my legs as far as possible to surrender as much of my most secret parts as I could to Chris’s lips, and he took control. My only interest was my writhing butt accompanied by my moans of pleasure. As I approached the point of no return, Chris only sucked faster and deeper. “More … more,” I said, as I neared those proverbial “short rows.” Finally, those illusive spasms of pleasure arrived and my whole body jerked and spewed forth ... I was racked in a warm liquid aura.

(NOTE: For you city boys ... When you work in the fields all day you try to save the “short rows” of whatever you are growing for last. Near quitting time, those short rows mean you are almost done for the day, and work goes much faster when the end is in sight. It is the same for sex ... you pump much faster when that elusive feeling is imminent).

After a few minutes’ rest, I said, “It’s my turn now.”

But Chris languidly replied, “No. We really should get going and get something solid to eat because we have appointments this afternoon. We have all week to find each other again.”

So I got dressed and we went to one of Nashville’s best restaurants for lunch. While we were eating, I asked, “What time is our appointment?”

Chris chuckled, “Two o’clock, but the time really doesn’t matter—we are stars. If necessary, they would stay until midnight waiting for us to try to get us to listen to their catalogue of music.”

That first afternoon we listened to dozens of songs and made notes on the ones we might want to record. They also called in session musicians to play background so we could be free to concentrate on the harmony that we would practice over and over. And focusing on the harmony between us was exactly what we planned to do during the entire week we had together.

To be continued...

Posted: 07/24/09