I got home by 10 pm and Daddy was there to greet me at the door of the condo. If I didn’t know better, I would have said he was sniffing around for alcohol (or worse) … That being California, I couldn’t really blame him.

We sat around chatting for a while and then I went to bed. The next morning we arose late,  had a leisurely brunch, and went the studio to get set up for our part of the taping. The taping was scheduled for 1 pm but the studio audience started arriving about 11 am. As if I didn’t expect it, about a dozen young people from the party were some of the first arrivals.  As time went by, more and more people showed up until it was standing room only. 

Promptly at 1 pm, the show’s hosts arrived on the set and explained the schedule to the crowd. They were already unruly, and Security had to quiet them down after several outbursts of “We want Billy Ray … We want Billy Ray!”

The hosts, staff, and other performers didn’t know what to think of all that. They were used to conservative, older audiences and these were boisterous young people. The older audience members were lined up outside the studio because there was no seating left. When I went out front to ask them to please hold it down, the girls started all that screaming stuff and the guys were cheering. I asked them to please be quieter, and to just let the show get started. Alan was sitting down front, and he reassured me that he would try to keep them under control.

As the show got under way and the introductions were made, the Stone Family came on and we began our first song. The crowd went nuts—totally out of it. Again the hosts were taken aback. Then they introduced each of us nominees in order and the first one came on to be interviewed and perform his song. When he was finished, he got a polite round of applause mixed with some cheering. The second nominee was then interviewed and likewise was well received. So, too, was the third. 

When it was my turn, signs came out which read, “Billy Ray Stone Fan Club” … “California loves Billy Ray,” along with other slogans made up on some professional-looking signs. I found out later the signs had been produced earlier that morning by the UCLA art department where nearly half of the young people in the audience attended school. Finally, my interview began. Everything I said was greeted with screams from the girls and applause and hoots from the guys. 

When I at last got up to sing, there was more screaming, cheering and yelling … I did my first song and they went nuts once again. The applause went on so long that the hosts stopped the taping to explain to the crowd that there was a limited time frame for the taping, so we needed to move the show along. They started taping again, but despite what the hosts had told the audience, when they introduced Chris and me, pandemonium broke out once more. The curtains opened to reveal the two of us sitting on stools in black and white with our acoustics, and we held up our hands and struck the first cord. A hush fell over the crowd and we began to sing the close harmony that we were to become famous for … you could have heard a pin drop in the theater. We at last had the full, silent attention of the audience, and after we sang the first verse and chorus we continued playing. I said, “We have really enjoyed our visit here in California and could easily become accustomed the lifestyle here. But it is not for lifestyle that we came here---the beaches are great, the sun and the sand are gorgeous, but we came to sing our songs and try to draw you nearer to Christ. If our songs in some small way make you aware that He died for you, then we have been successful … We will soon be touring and holding shows and rallies here on the west coast, and we hope that you will not only come to see us but come to meet Him …” Then we continued with “Battleground.”

That day marked the true end to whatever lingering ambition I might have had to do something other than sing for a living. It was also the absolute end to my personal privacy. 

After the show, we all milled around backstage and made nice-nice to each other … The hosts and producers told me confidentially that it was obvious that we would become superstars, even if only in Gospel music. However, unless we could appear unadvertised or they could somehow arrange to tape us secretly, it would be almost impossible to have us on again because of the fan reaction.

Our bus was parked to the side of the building in the regular parking lot. The host sent one of the security people out with instructions for our driver to take it around to the rear of the building so that we could secretly load our gear and leave quietly. That proved to be  impossible anyway. With the huge Stone Family logo on the sides of the bus, young people already had it completely surrounded. The hosts finally had the police brought in to clear the area. The bus at last slowly crept around to the rear door, and after Daddy supervised the loading of our music equipment, we all quickly filed out and boarded the coach. We left the parking lot, and a convoy of honking cars and vans followed us in procession out along the California freeways all the way to Malibu where the condo was. While we were en route to Malibu, Daddy told us that after the tour and while I was gone off with Chris, he was going to send the bus back to the factory for some modifications and a new paint job. He said that the Stone Family logos had to go because we would never have any privacy otherwise. It was fine with me, even though I thought about how ironic it was that we had been so proud of the coach when we first took delivery of it. Now I didn’t care if they disguised it to look outwardly like a regular Greyhound or anything else that might give us just a little bit of anonymity on the road. 

My brothers and I were totally ready to hit the beach. Daddy and Mamma had some business to discuss with our promotion company, so we changed into our swimwear and opened the door to the condo—but there was a gaggle of those screaming girls again as well as a whole bunch of guys. My brothers and I politely smiled and tried to get past them, but they mobbed us, determined to escort us all the way to the beach. I suppose we could have just gone back into the condo, but our valor outweighed our common sense. We were surrounded. I knew in my heart that they wouldn’t hurt us intentionally, but the way we were engulfed, we could have easily been trampled. 

When we got to a vacant spot on the beach, we laid out our towels and sat down while the guys and girls squatted down, encircling us. I could see that my brothers were just itching to get into the water, so I asked some of the guys if they would keep an eye on them for me. Two beach boy looking types agreed, and my brothers gingerly stepped out of the circle as they took their boogie boards and walked down to the water lapping at the shore some yards away.  

The remaining young people were chattering like the magpies that you see on TV. It was so noisy that I couldn’t hear any of their questions or comments, so I finally shouted for quiet.  Then I asked them to appoint one person to do the talking. They did … she was a blond girl named Connie who was about a year older than me. Connie became their spokesperson and helped field their questions.  

Most of them were about personal stuff, the kinds of questions that you would read in a teen magazine—my favorite color, what kind of music I liked, what teen idols I knew, the movies I’d seen, and so on. But there were also legitimate questions about Gospel music and Christianity. I told them flatly, “I am no one to be giving you advice about how to live your lives,” but I went on to tell them how I lived mine—up to a point, of course. “We are all teens,” I said, “but y’all live in California and I am from middle Tennessee, so there’s not much similarity in our life styles. But we do have one common thread …” and I went on to tell them about my faith. But I also made sure that they knew that I had my personal shortcomings too, and that a relationship with Him was a continuing thing—that it didn’t happen overnight. We talked for at least an hour and one of them said, “If I had a pastor or teacher like you, Billy Ray, I would have a whole different life.” 

About that time my brothers came up from the water and I told the crowd that I had to go.  Everyone lined up for a hug—and a few kisses as well. When I got back to the condo, I looked in the mirror … my cheeks were red from the girls’ lipstick, and my hand was filled with a collection of phone numbers and other notes—one asked me to meet on the beach at 9 pm. I had no idea who the note was from, of course, but horny me decided it might be interesting to find out.

We got cleaned up and had dinner with my parents. Then we all watched TV until it was almost bedtime. I asked my Daddy and Mamma if I could walk down to the water for a while. They gave me permission, but also told me not to stay out too late.

I had on walking shorts, a tee shirt, and sandals. I slipped out of the back door of the condo and strolled down to the beach. It was very dark out but I could still make out the outlines of some people strolling along down by the water. Suddenly, someone came up alongside me and took my hand. Although I could but see a dim outline, the hand that held mine was decidedly male. It led me off into the low dunes just back from the water and the voice whispered, “There are some of your new friends that want to get to know you better, Billy Ray, if you are interested … a special kind of California ‘hello’…”

I could have pulled back, and I am sure that nothing else would have happened—but just the thought of something happening in that unknown darkness just ahead was enough to have me dripping pre-cum.

When we were at last behind the dunes we came to a stop. I felt hands slowly raise my tee shirt while other hands peeled down my shorts. Nothing was said, but I suddenly felt hands all over my body—caressing my cheeks, my chest and back, and all up and down my legs.  Fingernails traced the underside of my cock from my balls to the head—they didn’t feel like a guy’s nails, either … Lips kissed my nipples, while others brushed my lips. Strangely, I thought I could taste lipstick … my first kiss from a real girl? I didn’t know—but I didn’t draw back, either. A tongue forced its way into my mouth and played with my own. I could feel hot breath on my cock and all up and down my spine. A voice whispered in my ear, “Billy Ray, you’re the most beautiful boy I have ever seen—so talented … I just want to be a little part of your life …” the voice trailed off, then retuned: “I just have to have you.” 

I was lightly pushed backward and hands gripped my shoulders, lowering me to the sand.  Gazing upwards, I could see at least three cocks and a pair of breasts hanging over me … Slowly, the breasts descended toward my mouth. I reached out my tongue and lightly licked the nipples as they dangled over me. I felt lips on my cockhead and I raised my hips to enter that warmth fully, while a tongue was at the same time licking my nipple … It had to be a guy because of the whiskery feel of it. The mouth on my cock withdrew and something fuzzy touched my cock … I pushed upward and could feel my cock enter something warm and wet … it began slowly pumping up and down, juicily lubing my cock as it increased the pace. Then it was gone, quickly replaced by a fist and a pair of lips. These also stroked me up and down until I began moaning softly … then it, too, withdrew and once more the warm wet thing began its humping on my shaft. It sped up and I heard desperate whimpers as it reached its peak and we both began cumming … it seemed to never end …I finally retracted my hips and disengaged, and that hot, moist fuzziness was replaced by another pair of lips. They impatiently sucked me in and out and greedily devoured my cock. I didn’t think I could cum again in such a short time, but I was quickly on the edge … then someone knelt over me and offered me his cock. I pretended to resist, but when the head touched my lips, they involuntarily parted, and the head passed over my tongue. The cock pumped in and out of me and I used my tongue to massage the underside of the head. The strokes got quicker and shorter, and suddenly my mouth was filled with salty cum. I let him finish with a few strokes and at last gently raised him up off of me.    Meanwhile, two different sets of lips had sucked me once more to the point of no return. I could feel the cum rising up, and suddenly I began spurting an additional load of cum into the waiting mouth. Finally, we all stood, and one by one they kissed my lips and pressed notes into my hand. In all, I managed to count three guys and a girl. Then a fifth person helped me find my clothes and led me back to the path … it turned out to be Connie, the spokeswoman for the group that I had talked to earlier that afternoon. Connie helped me clean off the evidence of the lovemaking from my skin, and then I ran down to the water and dove in completely clothed.   

We still had one more day of vacation before we began our west coast tour and we filled it with family things. We went to Disneyland and other attractions in the Los Angeles area.  Then it was time to set up at the big megachurch in downtown Los Angeles.

We began setting up at 2 pm, and the pastor told us that the church staff had been fielding phone calls all day—mostly from young people. He had expected his Wednesday evening regulars, but since he had told the congregation about us and put our names in his church bulletin, the Sunday morning crowd was also expected to come. With the help of the church youth, we were finished setting up by about 3:30 pm, and the auditorium in the sanctuary was already just about filled.  By 4:30 pm, even the balcony was full, and they began sending people out to their youth auditorium. The church had an in-house video hookup so they could show the program in that building. By 6 pm, there was no room left anywhere on the property.

The pastor opened the service with a prayer and a short introduction to the evening’s events. Immediately afterwards, he introduced my Daddy, and the crowd was already on its feet. The rest of the family and I had been sitting in a reserved pew, and when Daddy brought us up on stage, the cheering and screaming broke out in earnest. We picked up our instruments, Mamma sat down at the keyboards, and we hit the first notes of the old standard, “Power in the Blood.” A roar went up, and despite our sound system, you couldn’t hear us for the crowd singing along in a roar. We then played several of our early hits and the response continued to rise in intensity. Then Daddy introduced me as “Billy Ray Stone, Gospel music’s best new male recording artist for the year 2000.”

I started off by singing my two top-ten hits as well as a few others, but I would no more get into them with the family backing me up than we would be drowned out by the screams and hoots. I realized suddenly that I hated it. In spite of my stage presence and air of confidence, I grew so frustrated that I missed some words and had to fake it by slurring over some parts of the songs several times. Nobody but the family even noticed my flubs. The noise was so loud that it didn’t make any difference whatsoever. We were supposed to do only an hour-long performance, and then Daddy was supposed to give a “fiery” revival sermon, but it never got that far. The crowd didn’t let us stop at an hour, and we continued singing for almost two. 

In the end, the pastor of the church finally got up to call for order and said, “These folks don’t need a church, they need a coliseum. We are going to have them back real soon, and we’re going to hold a genuine revival in the Los Angeles Coliseum.” He continued, “Do you want ot hear one more song?”

The crowd roared. So my Daddy and I sang “Battleground”—naturally, it wasn’t the same harmony as it was with Chris, but the effect was somehow still the same. Some people wept.  Some people shouted. And some people came down to the altar and knelt and prayed. There really was a whole revival wrapped up in that single song. 

To be continued...