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 9
Soaring

It had all started off innocently enough—if that can be said considering the extent of my secret relationship with Chris …

All day Wednesday Chris and I had been working, meeting with several of the smaller publishing houses, and trying out many different songs. After dinner, I went to my room just in case my parents called to check on me. Even though I was an adult legally, I was still their kid and I had to check in with them to make sure that I wasn’t running wild in Nashville. Chris had meanwhile gone back to his room to get something, and when he returned he had a small bag in his hand. I asked, grinning, “What do you have? Is it a present for me?”

He said, “In a way …”

After the phone call, we lay back on the bed and just relaxed there kissing and caressing, and gradually we began undressing each other. Chris unbuttoned my shirt; I unbuttoned his. It soon progressed to the point where we were holding each other’s bare cocks, and I was just about to go down on him when he whispered, “Billy Ray, have you ever thought about other ways of making love to each other … ?”

Such thoughts had, in fact, occurred to me, but I was too inexperienced to even know how to go about doing other things. I knew what men and women did from the basic sex education that I had from the home schooling textbooks I had read, but I was still largely in the dark about the physical side of even straight sex, let alone the ins and outs of gay coupling. I did know that every time Chris licked my crack it just about sent me over the edge. I was very sensitive on the outer parts, but I had never been penetrated except for the tip of his tongue. I wasn’t too sure about the whole thing, frankly. I told him, “It has crossed my mind, but I can’t do everything to you that you do to me … ”

Sucking cock, though, seemed to be instinctive to me. When I thought about it, sometimes I was in a quandary as to why. In those moments of reflection after I had a session with Chris, I just shook my head in shame—why did I want to do those things, I asked myself? But whatever my feelings of guilt or shame or uncertainty were, they certainly didn’t stop me for going back for more. I had no idea why, but I also thought that fucking was somehow different. In my private moments I knew that eventually would have a relationship with some or maybe even all of those screaming girls that seemed to think I was so sexy. I was becoming a real horn-dog and eventually I was going to get it on with some of them.

I knew nothing about bisexuality. But I did know that I could get it on with girls because some of my most hot jack-off sessions were with girls in mind. Chris told me that when he was on the road, he occasionally already did it with girls. He said he was just like a sailor. He had girls in every one of the major cities that he toured. But it was times like these with me, when the gay side of him surfaced, where Chris risked his entire career he had built up. It also risked my own career, even though mine was still in its infancy.

He said, “Billy Ray, we can’t get much closer than we already are, but I really want you to at least try it with me. It is a big step because you are young and inexperienced, but it is also something that I have tried a few times, and it really is an intimate thing that can draw us even closer.”

I asked innocently, “But if I don’t like it, couldn’t it also push us away from each other?”

He quickly reassured me, “If you don’t like it, we’ll just stop. I won’t pressure you until you are interested. Anyway, I’m the one who wants you to do it … to me.”

I admitted, “Now you’ve got me curious about how it feels, but you will have to teach me. I … I … I really don’t think I want to be fucked, but … but if it makes you happy, I’ll give it a try.”

Smiling, Chris reached for the bag and took out a tube of some kind of creamy goo and a box of condoms. He said, “This is lube, and it is made for just this purpose.”

He opened the tube, squeezed a big glob of its contents on my fingers, and told me to rub it on my cock … then he opened a condom. It was the first one I had ever seen in real life … I had seen pictures in books, but the one in front of me now was the first one that I had ever really touched. Chris placed it on the head of my cock and slowly rolled it down my shaft. I swear, just putting it on me almost made me cum right then. It seemed that the flare of my cock head swelled up even more than it already did when the rubber touched it. Chris lubed the outside of the condom, put some more between his legs and up into his hole … then we went back to kissing.

As things reheated between us, Chris spread his knees wide open and rolled me on top of him … we continued to kiss, and the head of my cock was soon wedged between his legs and almost into place. He slid his hand between us and positioned me at the entrance. I focused all my concentration on the head of my cock, and as I pushed it forward it began to slowly penetrate him … we continued to kiss and although I reduced the pressure, Chris rolled his hips forward, stabbing himself down on my cock. It slowly slid in further. I entered all the way—at least as much as I had—after all, I was still just a developing boy …

I slowly began easing my shaft in and out of Chris’s passage and he responded by thrusting his hips forward and back … we were still kissing, but I turned my head to the side and continued focusing on the sensations that were caressing the head of my cock. I picked up the pace until I was in those wonderful “short rows" again … I made faster and shorter strokes. Chris kept encouraging me with his soft murmuring. Quickly the spasms come over me and I was done …

We lay there and I was completely spent, but I could also feel his still-hard cock standing between us. Mine was deflating and soon squeezed itself out of his hole. I then bent down and took his cock in my mouth and gave him the best blow job that I could in my ultra-sensitive condition. Afterward, I slowly walked to the bathroom, and with “dainty” fingertips stripped off the condom and disposed of it. I washed thoroughly and hobbled back into the bedroom.

Chris smiled up at me and asked, “How was it? Was it worth trying again?”

I said, “To tell the truth, I really don’t know …”

I left the thought dangling in mid-air. Although we would do it again many times over in the coming months and years, at that point it was just not my “thing.” I was really more of a spontaneous person. It seemed like a whole lot of trouble and planning just to get off. But I reassured Chris that it was something we could share between us.

I could tell Chris was somewhat disappointed, but it was the truth.

The next morning, I met Chris in the hotel coffee shop for breakfast. We still had two days of meetings lined up, and the promoter had also scheduled us to play at a Nashville record shop that was well known for personal appearances by recording artists. This particular show was broadcast live all over the South, so it was good publicity for our upcoming sessions. We planned out the songs we would perform and then were off to the publishers. That is the day we found our future hit, “Battleground.”

The song had been written by a former soldier who had served in the first Gulf War. It was about internal battles that we fight rather than the actual war he had fought in. The publisher didn’t think all that much of it, but it was written by a friend of his, so he had agreed to publish it. The moment we heard it we saw the possibilities of a big two-part harmony hit. Although we heard other good songs that day, we signed for the right to use the song on our CD. Chris and I stayed there for several more hours and practiced the number until we each had our parts completely memorized. We told the owner that we would sing it on the radio that very night. He was a little dubious because he thought we were a little too premature in airing it without it being recorded and released, but we decided to do it anyway.

The Record Shop is on one of the regular tourist routes in the city. In addition to the Country Music Hall of Fame and the Grand Ole Opry, it is probably among the top tourist attractions in the area. The people stand out on the sidewalk, listen to the music, and get to meet the artists up close and personal as they enter and leave.

Chris and I were introduced and came on the stage. Obviously we were not country. There was a polite round of applause when we began to play one of Chris’s gospel hits. Our harmony sounded great that night. The applause grew stronger, and the crowd became friendlier. We sang “Ripples.” The applause again multiplied and a roar erupted from the men as well as screams from the ladies. When we played “Battleground,” however, the reaction was deafening! We had to do three encores. It was impossible for us to get off the stage and out of the building. The manager finally had to call the police and ask for an escort to get us out of the area and back to Chris’s car. We were pawed and kissed and patted on the back and groped … Later that night, Chris received a call from the manager of the shop. One of the later acts on the show that night was a member of the Grand Ole Opry, and he hosted one of the segments of the Saturday night radio show. He wanted to invite us to appear that Saturday night on his segment as his latest “discovery.”

For you city folks, the Grand Ole Opry is the Mecca for country music, and is the oldest continuous live broadcast in radio. To be a member of the Opry is an honor given to established stars. In the old days, if you were a “good ole boy” and had one obscure hit, you might become a member for life. Nowadays, however, you have to be an established star with a whole string of hits to your credit. All members must agree to appear on the show live a certain number of nights per year. At one time performers had to appear 26 times. That was a big financial burden for many who earned most of their income from personal appearances, so now there is no minimum, but they must still appear regularly. Each member who hosted was allowed to invite as many guest artists to appear on his segment as he could fit into that time slot. So, for guests who are chosen to appear, it is an honor beyond measure.

The radio show starts at 7 PM and goes until 10. The show is broken up into segments, with each segment hosted by a different entertainer. Prime time slots are taken by the most senior members. Our “discoverer” was a very senior member—it was Billy Crowder, one of the Opry’s biggest stars!

Naturally, Chris readily agreed that we would appear. When I called home to check in, Daddy had heard the Record Shop show and was already ecstatic. He said we had never sounded better, and the song “Battleground” was sure to be a big hit. When I broke the news about appearing as a guest on the Opry, Daddy was overjoyed. Despite the fact that the Opry was country, listening to the Opry on Saturday nights was as traditional as going to church on Sunday. Everybody did it. It didn’t matter how religious you were, you listened to the Opry.

Daddy said he would love to bring the family down and watch if I could get tickets, so I told him I would try to get some. Chris called the shop manager back and the manager put him in touch with the host of our segment, Billy. When Chris called him, he explained the situation with my family—how we had several gospel hits and had been singing together for our whole lives.

Billy said, “Let me do some checking and I’ll get back to you.”

About fifteen minutes later, he called back and told Chris, “I have already filled out my own segment. But I called one of my friends who hosts the first segment, and The Stone Family is now scheduled to appear on the 7 PM segment of the show!”

I certainly was not expecting that. All we originally wanted was tickets for the family. Now I would appear on two different segments of the Opry broadcast on the same night: once with my family, and once with Chris!

It was one AM in the hollow when I called home. Daddy sleepily answered the phone and said, “What’s wrong? Are you in trouble? Are you sick? What’s the matter? What have you done now?”

I told him, “Daddy, I am sorry to call you so late, but I just had to tell you. They want the family to play on the seven o’clock Opry show, and then Chris and I will do ‘Battleground’ at eight.”

You could have heard the whooping and hollering for a mile—I had to take the phone away from my ear it was so loud. Daddy shouted for Mamma and laughingly yelled in the phone, “Son, what have you done???”

It seemed Daddy just couldn’t stop laughing, so Mamma came on the line and I explained everything to her all over again, and she likewise was overjoyed. After we chatted about the show for a few more minutes, it was arranged that they would have the driver bring the family down in our new bus and would arrive in Nashville on Saturday afternoon about lunchtime.

To be continued...

Posted: 08/07/09