Mama was a Preacher
Chapter Three
Little Rock
Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com
All rights reserved.

Although Jackie had told Mama that we would spend the night with the 
Osbornes, that is not what we did.  Jerry's emotional departure was 
almost like the "fade out" at the end of a movie.

We drove back toward Clinton. "Well, it's less than a hundred miles 
from here to Little Rock, so why don't we get a motel for the night? 
And then we can join up with the Gregory's tomorrow as we had 
planned."

I had never been in a motel. The only one that I had ever seen was the 
old Blue Bell in Clinton, and that sure wasn't much. Jackie said that 
the one we would stay at tonight even had a swimming pool.

Apparently he had been there before. The lady at the registration desk 
welcomed him by name. 

The "Inn" as it was known was an "Indoor/Outdoor" affair. The rooms 
were part of a three story "L" shaped structure. The Inner walls of 
the "L" supported two sides of a glass enclosure that was totally 
protected from the outside weather. This giant courtyard contained a 
swimming pool, miniature golf court, and cafe.

Our room was on the third floor overlooking the pool. The bathroom had 
a separate tub and shower. The bed was so large that Jerry, Jackie, 
and me all could have slept together without touching.

"You hungry?"

I was famished. 

The "outdoor" Cafe in the court yard overlooked a landscaped garden, 
featuring outside tables with umbrellas. The waiter was about Jackie's 
size and age. He also seemed to know him. They laughed and kidded 
around for a while before we got around to ordering. The menu had at 
least eight different kinds of hamburgers, but before I could decide 
what I wanted Jackie suggested we have an Italian dinner with Lasagna.

The Lasagna was another first. It was cut like a piece of cake, and 
was made up of layers of a wide noodle, rich hamburger and tomato and 
several kinds of cheese; one smelled more like used foot powder than 
anything else I could think of.  Once I got my nose past the smell, 
the flavor was outstanding.  Jackie laughed when I told him what I 
thought about the odor of the Parmesan Cheese.

As we ate we talked about me and what I wanted out of life. He repeated 
what he had told Jerry and me about my having talent and being a
natural born performer. He again brought up that little thing I had 
unknowingly done during "Daddy Sang Bass". He wanted to talk to the 
Gregory's and to mama about becoming part of our "Revival Meeting." 
However he wanted me to know that the reason, which was to remain a 
secret between just the two of us, was that he wanted to devote his 
time to training me to be the best singer, and maybe even "preacher" 
on the gospel circuit.

Those reasons, at age thirteen, didn't really make an impression. But 
I liked Jackie and his interest in me felt nice. Especially nice since 
I had just lost my best friend.

We went to our room after dinner. "Want to go for a swim?"

I explained that I didn't have a swim suit, but he said that he always 
carried a couple of extra pairs in the car ... just in case.

When he got back with the extra swimming trunks I was really surprised. 
First they were small enough for me. My waist was only twenty
six inches. Second, they were of a style I had never seen. They looked 
like underwear. He said not to worry as they would look great.

While I was still inspecting the new trunks Jackie was taking off his 
clothes. I had never seen him naked before, and I was curious. He 
didn't seem to be embarrassed that I was watching him.  

He had removed his shoes, and socks. He raised his T-shirt over his 
head exposing his smooth, firm stomach, and chest. When the shirt was 
clear of his head, he met my gaze with a gentle smile. Next, he released 
the top of his pants, unzipped them, and slid them to his
ankles; then kicked them free. He was not wearing underwear. His dick 
was larger than Jerry's, and it was surrounded by quite a bit of hair. 

My eyes were glued to his crotch.

"Well come on, get into those trunks so we can get going."

This time the tables were reversed. Jackie's eyes did not leave my 
body as I stripped. Unlike Jackie, my dick began to get stiff as his 
gaze moved down the length of my body, and was absolutely rigid by the 
time I tried to slide the tiny swim suit over my buttocks.

He laughed, reached over and flicked the head with his finger. The 
sharp tap caused my little one to collapse.

He was out of the room before I had them fully on. "Close the door."

I raced past him and had jumped into the pool before he was off the 
stairs.

Not to be outdone by a thirteen year old, he dove into the pool, and 
had me by the feet before I had even gotten the water out of my eyes.  
He tugged down. I leapt up, gulping a lung full of air, then doubled 
back down on him, approaching him from the rear. My fingers grabbed 
the waist of his trunks and I jerked them downward, exposing his 
buttocks. But, just as rapidly he reversed the situation and I found 
my trunks around my ankles.

I came up for air, trying to pull my swim suit over my butt. A gush of 
water struck me in the face. I dove down, kicking my feet as hard as I 
could, hoping to splash as much water in his face as he had in mine.

I looked up toward the surface attempting to find my quarry. He was no 
where above me. I looked below me. Still no Jackie. Before I could 
spin around he had me in a tight hold. I found my crotch resting on 
his elbow, his arm extending upward toward my chest. My feet found his 
knees. A sudden push and I was clear as I was propelled toward the 
side of the pool. It was only then that I realized he had been holding 
on to my swimming trunks, as in horror I looked down and found myself 
absolutely naked.

Before I could take any action he was along side of me, my trunks in 
his hand, his body shielding mine from public view.

He put his arms under my shoulders, supporting me as I slipped the 
suit over my legs. I could feel the beat of his heart against my 
chest. Our faces were just a few inches apart as I looked up into his 
eyes. He laughed, and attempted to dunk me.  However, I was faster, 
and slithered downward out of his embrace then sprinted across the 
pool into the shallow end.

We played tag, and wrestled during the next hour. Eventually, I ran 
out of energy and we headed toward our room.

I switched from the swim trunks to my jockey shorts. Jackie was in the 
shower, so I crawled into the bed on the side closest to the bath 
room, and was asleep before he had climbed under the covers.

Sometime during the night I must have moved across the large bed, as 
when the sunlight woke me, I was snuggled against him on his side of 
the bed.

He was sleeping on his back. I peeked under the covers. He was naked 
and he had a stiffie. I slipped further down until my head was opposite 
his waist, my eyes glued to his penis. His breathing was deep
and slow. Every time he inhaled his dick would bounce. After several 
minutes of watching I adventurously lifted the sheet slightly putting 
my hand between the sheet and his bouncing head. Each time it throbbed 
it left a spot of wetness on my hand.

I was intrigued. Cautiously I let my hand cup the head, then my fingers 
began to massage the it. The head seemed to get both larger and
wetter. Unexpectedly I felt his hand on my shoulder; he was awake. He 
neither encouraged or discouraged me from my curiosity.  Instead, his 
hand was warm and loving. Boldly I moved my hand all the way from the 
head, down the length of his shaft till it rested in his pubic hair. 
As I moved my hand back up the shaft it got stiffer and hotter. Suddenly 
he let out a big sigh as his penis propelled massive amounts of
cum over my hand.

He laid there for a moment, and said, "That was nice. Thanks," then 
rolled out of bed and took a shower.

I was still laying there with his slippery stuff over my hand. My own 
little cock was very stiff. I put my wet hand over my own organ and 
began massaging it. As I did so that same feeling that Jerry had 
caused began to generate deep within me, continuing to spiral upward 
until that same crescendo was replicated.

My hand was grasping my tiny pole as Jackie came out of the shower 
still drying himself with a towel. He paused for just a moment, then 
said, "Looks like you need a shower too."

Somewhat reluctantly I moved out of bed, his wetness and my own spread 
around the crotch of my jockeys. I slipped the undershorts from my 
body, my little instrument still enlarged and glistening, then kicked 
them from my ankles. As I moved toward the shower, he picked them up 
and put them to his nose. "I think Jerry was wrong... You can cum."

I blushed from head to toe as I sped into the shower.

We checked out of the motel and drove to the address on Cottondale 
where the tent was to be erected. The motel was close to downtown 
Little Rock while the site for the Revival was on the west side.  Even 
though Jackie was familiar with Little Rock, he didn't know where 
Cottondale was located, so I acted as navigator, looking closely at 
the road map, and guiding back along the highway we had traveled 
yesterday evening. It intersected Cantrell. We made a right, drove 
about a mile, found Road R, turned right again and soon saw the Gregory's 
bus and our trailer parked to the left on a side road.

Slightly beyond the vacant lot was a radio tower and a small building 
whose sign announced this was KLRA Radio.

Everyone was already awake and had started unloading the bus.  Jackie 
and I pitched right in moving the tent bundles into their proper 
places.

It was just before noon when a pickup truck turned into our lot, and 
disgorged three husky teenagers and their Pa. They were from the local 
Assembly of God church and had been sent to help assemble the tent.

Steven was the oldest brother at 19. His hair was a golden brown. His 
weight must have been about 170 pounds, and it was all muscle. He wore 
a pair of bib type overalls that were too tight in the chest, and too 
baggy in the butt. 

Next was Peter at just 17. His hair was lighter than Steven's, and 
longer as well. Although close to the same height as his brother, his 
build was not as filled out. He was wearing Levi's which were well 
worn with numerous large white areas, mostly around a somewhat bulging 
crotch, and snug seat.

The youngest was Jimbo, age 14. His hair was very dark, almost black. 
He was about my size and weight, although his legs were more in proportion 
to his body than were mine. He also was wearing Levi's that
were obviously handed down as they were too tight, and almost totally 
white from wear. Jimbo and I bonded almost immediately.
 
Joshua Hay was the father's name. He was tall and stringy. Although he 
was obviously strong, he lacked the "beefy" look sported by his eldest 
son. 

Jimbo, Jackie and I constituted one of the hoisting teams, while Peter 
and his father became another, leaving Steven and Reverend Gregory as 
the third.

Ruth assumed the role of coordinator, deploying the three teams in the 
most efficient manor to first hoist the poles, pound in the stakes, 
and finally raise the top.

By sunset everything was in readiness. The saw dust had been spread, 
the electricity connected, and portable "potties" placed at the very 
edge of the lot.

Getting the piano on the platform had almost been a disaster as the 
rental company delivered a Baby Grand instead of an upright.  

Ray was upset as he felt it would become the center point of attention. 
Jackie immediately began to play something. The sound was quite
beautiful. It also seemed louder than the upright.  His playing took 
on a totally different character as he played "What A Friend We Have 
in Jesus".  It was more compelling; less rough hewn, more spiritual.

Mr. Hay suggested we all come home with him for dinner. We eagerly 
accepted.

Their farm was 10 miles further west. Jackie drove, with Mama sitting 
in the passenger seat and the Gregorys in the rumble. I hopped in the 
back of the truck and rode with Jimbo and his brothers.

The house was much smaller than either the Osborne's or the Holbron's, 
but nicer. The kitchen was large and seemed to merge into the living 
room. It had three bedrooms. 

Jimbo took me back toward the barn. He had his own room which had been 
built in the loft. It was tiny, not more than six feet wide and eight 
feet long. His bed was a mattress almost the size of the room and 
placed directly on the floor. There was no light fixture, only an oil 
lamp on a wooden crate. On one wall was a picture of a naked lady 
"from Esquire Magazine".

He saw that the picture had caught my attention. "Mom never comes up 
here, so dad said it's OK." He paused, then almost in a whisper, "Gawd 
I'd like to put my peter in there."

Our contemplation was interrupted by Steven who stuck his head in the 
door delivering a modified message from his mother. "Ma says come on 
in for dinner, so you kids put your peckers back in your pants and 
come on."

I turned red as a beet. That had been too close to the truth. However 
Jimbo responded, "Ha! I saw you pounding yours this morning, so don't 
give me any of your crap."

"Next time I'll shoot in your eye, you little fucker."

It was all said in jest, but I was astounded at the openness with 
which these brothers talked about sex. Jerry and Jackie were the only 
two I had ever talked to about such things. And Mama wasn't about to 
tell me anything; with her that was a closed subject.

Mrs. Hay had prepared fried chicken, with mash potatoes, gravy, and 
biscuits. There was also lots of milk fresh from their own cow, and 
homemade blackberry jam. Jackie and I had skipped breakfast, so we 
were both famished. The Hay's must have thought that we were starving 
preachers of the gospel.

People were already parked in our lot when we returned to the tent. 
Mr. Hay  threw a big switch on the electric pole illuminating the 
interior. 

Within 15 minutes more than half of the seats were taken. Mr. and Mrs. 
Hay were seated in the front row, but Jimbo, Peter, and Steven were in 
the last row, close to the entrance.

Jackie began playing the piano while Mama and the Gregory's were still 
getting ready in the bus. "Do you want to try 'Daddy Sings Bass'?".

"No way."

"Come on. Just the first verse and chorus."

Finally, I nodded, "Ok."

Jackie had already used the chorus as a lead in.
 
My high voice began, "I remember when I was a lad, times were hard and 
things were bad; but there's a silver lining behind every cloud. Just 
poor people that's all, we were try'n to make a livin' out of black 
land dirt; We'd get together in a family circle singin' loud."

Everyone had stopped talking and were listening to my solo.

Then I started into the chorus, "Daddy sang bass, Mama sang tenor." It 
was here that Jackie did his key change and I leaned forward and 
jumped backward, it was almost an automatic impulse, "Me and little 
brother would join right in there; Singing seems to help a troubled 
soul." I could feel something coming from the audience. It was very 
positive. I could sense that their enjoyment had gone beyond the 
ordinary. For just a moment they had felt that same impulse, and were 
inspired by its fulfillment. "One of these days and it won't be long; 
I'll rejoin them in a song; I'm gonna join the family circle at the 
throne. No, the circle won't be broken. Bye and bye, Lord, bye and 
bye. Daddy'll sing bass, Mama'll sing  tenor, me and little brother 
will join right in there in the sky, Lord in the sky." 

Later Jackie explained that this was a very important happening. It 
was the first step in truly mass communication. It was a moment during 
which an entire concept had been bi-directionally transmitted. That 
communication started with the song, transmitted by me, enhanced by 
the audience, and transmitted back to me.  Eventually he would teach 
me how to recognize the occurrence, seize upon it, and use it to build 
a memorable thing.

Ruth was the first to return from the bus and mounted the platform.  I 
sat next to Jackie as she began the planned singing. The transition 
worked very well, as that sparkle still existed and the people had 
already become part of the music. We had advanced to what Jackie 
called "Level Three".

Looking back, I realize that the Gregorys had developed their abilities 
as Evangelists by trial and error, while Jackie understood the
psychological aspects of their efforts.  Like a teacher, he possessed 
the knowledge to design a career, and the tools to implement an effective 
curriculum.

I am sure that the Gregorys believed what they preached, while I am 
equally certain that Jackie understood only the technology. The Reverend 
Gregory was a man of God. Jackie was a teacher; a trainer; a
showman. But who is to say whether Jackie was under the hand of God. I 
know Jackie would never admit that it was God's hand that guided him. 
But then one first needs to define God. In the end the results were 
the same.

That night's revival services were very good. The power was there. The 
congregation became an integral part of the services. The "Call for 
Sinners" had the altar crowded with praying, weeping people. We were 
all drained of energy as the meeting came to a close; drained, with a 
glowing feeling of fulfillment.

Jimbo sought me out and asked if I'd like to come home with them for 
the night. Mama and Jackie were talking when I asked, and Jackie said 
he thought it was a good idea as he had a lot to talk to mama about.

I grabbed Jerry's comforter and hopped into the back of the Hay's 
pickup truck.

The night had turned cool so Jimbo, his brothers and I all drew close 
together under the comforter. I was sitting between Jimbo and Peter. 
The closeness, the warmth, and the smell of Peter's sweat drove deep 
inside of me, and to my surprise caused my little cock to get very 
stiff. Both Peter and Jimbo had their arms around my waist, hugging me 
to them.

I put my hands on each of their upper legs, returning the hugging. My 
left hand encountered a sizable, hot, throbbing bulge laying along 
Peter's leg. Quickly I lowered my hand to his knee, where upon he 
placed his hand over mine, drawing it back to the site of the encounter.


I was intrigued, and yet frightened, by the warmth of his member. It 
was almost as though it had a life of its own. I was drawn to it with 
the same feelings of compulsion that I had felt when I had peeked 
under the blankets this morning and watched Jackie's cock bouncing 
against the sheet. I wanted to touch the hot skin. If there had been a 
hole in his jeans I would have put my hand in there and experienced 
direct contact with the warm, hard, pulsing, velvety shaft.

His hand remained over mine, squeezing my fingers together on to his 
shaft. He released my hand and moved his over my waist, trying to 
locate my small member. It was shouting "Here. Here. Here I am." But 
before he could home in on his target, the truck turned into their 
drive way. We parked in the back between the house and the barn.

"There is hot chocolate and cake in the kitchen... and then it's off 
to bed with you." We followed Mrs. Hay into the kitchen and sat at the 
table while she heated the milk and cut the cake.

Being part of the Revival Meeting always left me tired. Jimbo, on the 
other hand was full of energy, and not in the least sleepy. We had 
climbed the ladder to the loft of the barn. Within minutes we were 
snuggled under his big blanket.  I had Jerry's comforter which I threw 
on top of Jimbo's. 

"Ever slept naked?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's nice."

He began to remove his T-shirt and underpants. I did likewise. We 
moved toward each other, coming in full contact in the middle of his 
mattress. I was next to the door with him facing me. "Ever seen a 
naked girl?" he asked.

"No, but I'd sure like to."

"Our neighbors have six girls, and the oldest one will show you anything 
you want to see.

My imagination went wild. A naked female. Wow! "How do you know?"

"Peter told me. The other day he was over there and she just plain 
asked him if he would like to see her pussy. When he said yes, she 
made him show her his dick. She even put her hands on it.  But Peter 
said that when he tried to put a finger in her pussy she slapped him 
and pushed him away."

I could feel Jimbo stroking his dick beneath the covers. I was on my 
back, and as he stroked his fist would bang against my hip. "Don't you 
ever jack off?" he asked.

"I don't know. What's jacking off."

"That's what I am doing, look under the covers and you can see."

I stuck my head under the covers. Most of the light from the oil lamp 
was filtered away. "Can't see anything."

"Just keep looking, your eyes will adjust." 

And so they did. I could see his fist moving up and down his shaft. 
"Oh, is that what you call it.  Yeah, I did that this morning.  It 
really felt good."

"Well come on, let's do it together".

As we stroked we fell into synchronism.

"Here you do mine, and I'll do yours." Jimbo reached over replacing my 
hand with his and began stroking.

"Oh, that feels good." I placed my hand around his cock and we again 
fell into synchronism.

He was still facing toward me when I felt a splash of warm liquid hit 
my thigh. While his hand on mine felt good, it wasn't generating that 
deep feeling I had felt when I had done this with Jackie's cum on my 
hand. And Jimbo's emission was too tiny to provide any lubricant.

Within seconds of his having cum, he relaxed and let loose of mine. 
Then he turned over on his other side facing the wall. Soon we were 
both asleep.

Sometime much later I was awakened by a flashlight in my face. At 
first I thought it was Jimbo, but I could hear him breathing on the 
other side of me. I reached up, put my hand over the light, pushing it 
out of my eyes. It was Peter.

He turned off the light and put his hand under the blanket. Just the 
memory of his hard dick in the truck got mine very rigid. When his 
hand found the target, it was standing straight out. After stroking me 
a couple of times, he grasped my hand, pulling me out of the bed.

He led me to the ladder, and we climbed down to the ground. Still, 
silently he guided me out back where there was a wagon full of loose 
hay. 

I was still naked. Peter was wearing just his shorts, which he removed. 
Then he laid down next to me, his throbbing cock literally
dripping moisture onto my tummy. He got up and sat on my stomach 
facing me. His organ began making a pool of warm liquid.  His fingers 
dipped into the pool. Then reaching behind him, he rubbed the moisture 
over my cock head.  The feeling was incredible, even better than 
Jackie's cum.

Peter raised himself a few inches, moved back and again sat down, my 
cock immediately sank into his hole. Then he began to rock back and 
forth. He motioned me to stroke his cock.  I put my fingers in the 
pool and then rubbed that on his dick. He slowly began moving up and 
down. The up part left just the tip of my cock head being grasped by 
his sphincter. The down part felt incredible as I was buried so deeply 
that I could feel his balls pressed against my abdomen. 

His penis was still dripping large amount of liquid. His pace increased, 
but the length and depth of his movement was still full and
complete.

That deep feeling began to generated. It started as before with what 
at first felt like a tickle far down inside of me, working its way up. 
Then that trigger happened, it felt as though a rubber band had been 
released, or the string of a bow had let the arrow fly, and at the 
same time his own  prick stood very rigid, and propelled several drops 
of cum hitting me on the lips.

My little cock was still buried when he leaned over, put his lips to 
mine, stuck his tongue in my mouth, then whispered. "Wow, that was 
good".

After putting his shorts back on we walked back to the barn. After 
seeing me climb up the ladder he disappeared in the direction of the 
house.

Jimbo was still soundly asleep as I crawled in next to him, wondering 
what Peter had enjoyed so much.

An arrogant rooster woke me at just a little past six. Jimbo yawned 
and stretched. "Gotta take a piss." He pulled on his undershorts and 
pants, tucking his little stiffy inside pointing up. "Where did you go 
last night?"

I thought my absence had gone undetected. "Just had to take a leak."

The question was answered, the subject was now a thing of the past.

The other two boys were already in the kitchen when we entered the 
house; neither were wearing anything other than their jockey shorts. 
Steven asked if I'd slept well, and Peter gave me a big smile and a 
wink. 

"John, what would you like for breakfast." Jimbo looked surprised at 
Peter's interest in anyone other than himself.

"I don't know. I guess what ever you are having."

"Then you are in for a treat. I'm going to make me an Omelet. Raisin 
toast, and bacon."

"What's with you shit head".

"Steven, don't use that kind of language." Mr. Hay came into the 
kitchen.

"Peter is acting weird. I've never seen him cook his own breakfast 
much less anyone else's."

"He is finally growing up and showing some good manners.  Which is, 
more than I can say for the rest of you."

Jimbo and I were the only ones at the table who were wearing pants, 
and I felt over dressed. 

Peter brought two plates to the table putting one in front of me. 
"Milk or coffee?"

The other plate he put on the other side of the table facing me.

All of the others were busy eating their breakfast, faces buried in 
their plates. 

"Hey Peter, that Omelet is really good."

He looked up from his plate, smiled, and said, "Thanks. Just thought 
you might like something special to remember us by." As he said that I 
felt his bare foot caressing my ankle. My cock immediately responded. 
I dropped my fork. Reaching down to retrieve it I saw Peter, and his 
cock was very stiff, pushing his shorts away from his body, creating a 
sizable tent. He winked at me as I continued to eat my omelet.

The sound of a car foretold the arrival of Jackie. The Hays had intended 
to drive me to the revival tent. Jackies arrival was unexpect
ed.

The entire family gave me hugs and squeezes. They were disappointed to 
see me leave. All of the boys had chores to do. They promised to be at 
tonights meeting.

On the way back to Cottendale Jackie told me that he had a long talk 
with Mama and the Gregorys. I was the subject of the talk.  Soon I 
would be fourteen, and school would be a problem while traveling the 
gospel circuit. Theater people were in the same situation. They resolved 
it by providing a tutor. Jackie had offered to become my teach
er as well as playing piano for the services. He would go to the 
Arkansas Board of Education and find out what would be required; what 
would be expected. The Gregory's only concern was whether or not there 
would be enough support for five people; there had been times when 
there was not enough for the two of them. Now it had grown to five. 
Mama pointed out that the collections had more than doubled since we 
had joined. So it was probable that Jackies presence would more than 
pay for itself. Finally, it was agreed that Jackie would leave his car 
with his Grandmother in Memphis, and travel with Mama and me. If there 
was not enough support, then Jackie would return to Memphis.

It was after two in the afternoon. I was alone trying to pick something 
out on the piano, one finger at a time. Jackie was at the Board of
Education. Mama and Ruth had gone grocery shopping, and Ray was preparing 
his sermon for tonights service.

A tall, lanky fellow wearing brown slacks, white shirt, and a sport 
coat came into the tent. "Is Steven Hay here?"

I looked surprised. "No, but the Hays should be here for this evenings 
meeting."

"I think he'll be here before that.  I talked with him this morning. 
My name is Harry Wiser. My dad owns the radio station next door."

Harry turned and started to walk away, then turned again "Tell him 
that I was here. I've got the four to eight shift at the station. He 
should come over."

"Mind if I come with him? I'd like to see the station."

"You are welcome, but why don't you let me give you a tour right now. 
It's more than an hour before I have to start work."

Even though Harry was only 18, he looked older. He didn't have that 
outdoor youthful appearance that ear marked the Hays as being farm 
boys. He and Steven had attended the same high school. Both of the 
boys shared an interest in science and electronics. He had been an 
amateur radio operator for more than four years. 

The entire station was housed in the small building less than 100 
yards from our tent. The front door opened into a tiny office with 
only one desk, and a file cabinet. An old underwood typewriter sat at 
a movable table. The chair was comfortable looking, but well worn. The 
wall behind the desk had a glass window through which you could see 
someone at a control board, talking into a microphone. Beyond that was 
another window through which you could see the KLRA transmitter.

Unlike KWHN, KLRA had no studio, and seemed to have only one microphone 
and two record players. A door to the far left of the desk was
the only access for the man at the control board. The only "On The 
Air" sign was made of cardboard, thumb tacked to the door. The hand 
lettering read: "QUIET! Probably ON THE AIR."

Harry put his finger to his lips signaling me to be silent. He pulled 
the door open and ushered me inside.

The man behind the control board was reading the news from the Arkansas 
Gazette. After reading something about hog futures, he shifted his
attention to a sheet of paper in a loose leaf binder, and read a 
commercial.

He reached over to one of the two turntables, and in rapid succession 
hit three switches turning on one of the record players, connecting 
the pickup to the audio board, and turning off the microphone.

"Harry, glad you are here already.  I'm supposed to go see Morgan 
White at the Funeral Home. He want's to start a new advertising campaign."

I was introduced to Harry Wiser, Senior.

"The transcription for The Old Time Gospel Hour is already on the 
table and is scheduled for three o'clock. There won't be any commercials 
as they paid for the whole hour. Wish we could get more clients
like that." His dad was already out of his chair, and on his way out 
of the room.

Junior pointed at a corner chair, and suggested I pull it up next to 
his at the console. "Sorry to cut the tour short, but you've seen all 
there is to see. But why don't you stick around, I'd like the 
company."

As the recording came to an end he signaled me to be quite, hit two 
switches on the console and began reading the next page in the loose 
leaf binder. "And now from the world tabernacle, The Reverend Fuller 
and The Old Time Gospel Hour." His left hand switched on the turntable, 
the 16 inch disk began to rotate, another switch and the Old
Time Gospel Hour was on the air.

"KLRA is a family business. Dad is owner, station manager, program 
director, and sales manager. I'm chief engineer, and Disk Jockey. 
Mother works the board from 8PM till we go off the air at midnight. 
Then all three of us have breakfast 'On the Air' after the early 
morning news at six."

Harry was looking through a stack of records, creating three separate 
groups. "One of the problems we have is that all the record companies 
send us free records, hoping we will play them. Most of the time we 
select them by title, never having auditioned them.  Of course the 
ones that our listeners like we set aside and play them more frequently. 
But we do get some real dogs. Why don't you look through that
stack and see if there is anything that appeals to you."

By the time the transcription had come to an end, we had created three 
piles of records: the ones that appealed to me, the ones that appealed 
to Harry, and the 'Bow Wows' as he called them.

"Television has just about killed night time radio, so Dad let's me do 
pretty much what I want between five and eight. Daytime is still a 
pretty hot item; housewives, people driving in their cars. Mother's 
program is local current events, we figure that our local audience 
will abandon the TV in favor of listening to themselves or their 
neighbors on the air."

He put his finger to his lips, reached over to the console and 
switched on the microphone. "We have a new recording from one of my 
favorite gospel groups. The Hamlen Brother and 'Heaven Came Down and 
Glory Filled my Soul."

Harry caught the odd expression on my face. "What's up?"

"The Hamlen Brother's pianist is our pianist and my teacher." 

"Far out. Think he would come over and talk to me on the air?"

"I don't see why not. He's at the Little Rock Board of Education 
trying to find out what he needs to be my traveling tutor."

Harry asked me to go back to our tent and wait for Jackie.

At the piano I continued trying to pick something out, one finger at a 
time. Mama came in looking for a hymnal. I told her about being next 
door at the Radio Station and that they wanted to talk to Jackie on 
the air. She started to leave, but then turned back to me. "Be sure 
and have Jackie talk to Ray before he goes next door."

Mother had hardly left the tent when I heard Jackie's coupe turn into 
our lot.

"Hey Jackie," I waved at him as I approached the car. "Two things. 
First, Steven Hay's buddy works at the Radio Station," I pointed 
towards the KLRA tower. "I told him that you were the pianist for the 
Hamlen Brothers, and he would like to talk to you on the radio. Then 
Mama said you should talk to Ray before going over there. When you are 
ready let me know and I'll go with you."

He walked toward the bus. Knocked on the door. Paused a moment, and 
then entered. I returned to the tent.

Ruth had a pile of different hymnals which she kept in a box next to 
the piano. I looked through them trying to find that song Harry had 
played on the radio. 

The song was in the fifth book. I put it on the piano and began to 
poke at the keyboard trying to pick out the melody. The score had 
three of those dumb flat symbols which made the music sheet useless. I 
didn't hear Jackie come up behind me. My attention was focused on the 
paper. 

"It goes like this sport." Jackie had returned; his fingers brought 
life to the keys on the right side of the keyboard. "Move over."

He sat down, and started from the beginning. "Come on, let's do the 
first verse. 'O what a wonderful, wonderful day." His voice while well 
modulated lacked timbre.

My voice sought the same note as his, and as I sang, "I will never 
forget; After I'd wandered," he shifted his tone down 2 notes, creating 
an unexpected, and rather exciting harmony. I broke from the
lyrics, "Wow! I really like that. Can we take it from the top."

"How soon are the people at the radio station expecting us?"

"Harry asked me to bring you over as soon as you returned."

"We'll play with the song when we come back." 

"What did Ray want to talk to you about?"

"He asked about what I had learned at the Board of Education. But I 
think the main thing he wanted was to try and get a plug on the 
radio."

As I opened KLRA's front door we could see Harry leaning into the 
microphone reading something from the loose leaf binder. I pointed to 
the "Quite! Probably on the Air" Sign, and watched him switch off the 
mic before opening the door into the control room. "Hey Harry, this is 
Jackie Marshall."

They shook hands. "John, drag in that chair from the office."

We sat on either side of Harry. For the next hour he alternated between 
playing an album of Hamlen Brothers Gospel Music and talking with
Jackie and me. Jackie told of some funny happenings that the brothers 
had encountered while performing. Then he guided the conversation to 
what he was doing now; the revival meetings. 

Quite unexpectedly Jackie explained that he was concentrating on 
training me. Harry asked what we were currently working on. The reply 
mentioned three things: "Daddy Sang Bass", "Heaven Came down and Glory 
Filled my Soul", and "Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling," a capella 
solo.

This was pretty much news to me. The capella solo had never been a 
solo, it was a duet between Jerry and me. "Heaven Came down" we were 
PLANNING on doing something with. Only "Daddy Sang Bass" had we ever 
really worked on.

Harry asked that in as much as there was no piano in the control room, 
"Would you sing 'Softly and Tenderly." 

I really didn't want to, but they had put me in a corner by asking me 
"On the Air"; I couldn't refuse. 

Harry swung the microphone toward me. I took a deep breath, and sustained 
B above middle C and held it for the entire measure. Again a
deep breath, and I sustained the D above middle C, and held it for the 
entire measure. Then during the next measure I shifted rapidly from D, 
to F Sharp, and down to E. For the next measure it was again D, F, and 
E. 

Jackie motioned for me to be silent for the next measure. Then, almost 
as though he were conducting an orchestra he paced me through the 
lyrics. "Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling." As I started the word 
"calling" he put the fingers of his two hands together pulling them 
apart in a stretching motion, elongating the phrase. The second 
"calling" in the verse was of normal length.

Altogether that hymn has 66 measures, and it seemed like a lifetime, 
as he lead me through the entire piece. 

"Outstanding!" was Harry's response. "Are you going to do either of 
the other two songs at tonights meeting?"

Jackie said, "Probably".

After we had finished the interview, Harry said he'd like to run a 
microphone line into our tent. Then if he heard something he thought 
his audience would like, he'd simply switch to that microphone. He 
could signal us that we were on the air by turning the light on in the 
transmitter room.

When we got back to the tent, Jackie sought out Ray to tell him about 
"KLRA's Remote Broadcast" then returned so we could practise on both 
"Daddy Sang Bass", and "Heaven Came Down".

While we were working at the piano Steve Hay came into the tent carrying 
a microphone stand and a reel of cable. Then rolled up one of the
tent side pieces so that there was a direct view of the KLRA building.

Everything was in readiness as the seven o'clock hour approached. Even 
though this was a week day, more than half of the seats were occupied. 
Ruth stepped to the front of the platform to start the singing.

She started with "Little Church in the Wildwood." She had glanced to 
her right, seemed surprised, and drew Jackie's attention to the KLRA 
building; the Transmitter Room light was on.

The light remained on during the next two songs. Jackie motioned for 
Peter Hay to come over to the piano. "Go next door and tell Harry they 
forgot to turn out the light in the Transmitter Room." Then he added. 
"That light was to be used to signal us that we were on the air."

Peter was back within 5 minutes. "Harry said to tell you it isn't a 
mistake. The PTA meeting that Mrs. Wiser was to air tonight fell 
through. Something about the transcription turning out bad. Anyway, 
unless you folks object, their going to carry the entire service."

Jackie told Peter to repeat that message to the Reverend Gregory.

AND EVERYTHING CHANGED!

Before the services were half over the tent was packed. Then cars 
started to arrive, and park in our lot. The passengers remained in 
their vehicles watching the services while listening to the broadcast 
on their car radios.

Ray asked Mr. Hay to organize "collections" so the occupants of the 
cars would have the opportunity to be part of the services.

Ray's sermon was more dynamic than any I had here-to-for experienced.

The excitement went beyond the novelty of being on the radio, as it 
captured every person in the audience, even those sitting in their 
automobiles. It was ELECTRIC.

It was close to midnight when every one had left. We were too drained 
to even attempt to clean up or count the collections.

The sleeping arrangements had to be changed, as mother usually slept 
in the big bed in the back of our trailer, while I slept up front on 
the converted couch. Now that Jackie was living with us he and I 
shared the big bed, and Mama slept on the couch.

She was already asleep as we entered the trailer. We took turns showering, 
and then hopped into bed. During the night I had drifted across
the bed, and awoke snuggled in Jackie's arms.

"John." It was mama's voice coming through the bedroom door. "Sister 
Ruth wants me over at the bus.  You can sleep in a little longer, but 
when you do get up, both you and Jackie come join us." The outside 
door closed. I snuggled closer to Jackie.

His dick was just where Jerry had kept his: between my legs, the head 
resting against my scrotum.

Mother's voice had not awakened him. So boldly, I lowered my shorts to 
my ankles, replacing his pole where it had been. I squeezed my legs 
together imprisoning him between my thighs. 

Still there was no awakening sounds. Daringly, I began rocking back 
and forth, his member sliding even though it was gripped between my 
muscles. It seemed to be getting both warmer and larger. His arms were 
already around me. His biceps began to squeeze my chest, as his hips 
mimicked my motions. His right hand moved down the length of my body 
till it touched my own little rod. Hastily his hand moved below my 
throbbing member, cupping the head of his own, capturing his own 
juices. Just a moment went by as we laid there in full contact from 
head to toe. He moved his hand back to my waiting rod now slippery 
with his own substance. His hips now moved against my buttocks, pushing 
my cock into his hand. Our combined motions, the thought of my
cock being immersed in his substance, the feeling of warmth and slipperiness 
quickly brought me to that point of no return. My muscles
tightened, my abdomen spasmed, and then I relaxed sinking back into 
the warm, loving arms for my mentor.

"That's the second time you've woke me that way. You'd better take a 
shower. I've left quite a mess between your legs."

"Mama said we should join them as soon as we are dressed."

"Brother Jack! The Lord has blessed us beyond measure," were the first 
words spoken by Reverend Gregory. "Absolutely beyond measure. God 
works in mysterious ways.

"Last nights turn out was far from what we had expected. And the way 
people kept driving in to our meeting, and listening to our service on 
the radio was astounding. Then this morning we counted the offerings 
from last night." He paused, breathing deeply, "Five times more than 
we have ever before received.

"And it all happened because the good Lord led you to the people at 
KLRA."

Mama and Ruth were both smiling from ear to ear. "Ray just got back 
from talking with Mr. Wiser. The gifts from last night were enough to 
pay for our broadcasting every service during our stay in Little 
Rock."

Mama added, "We need to organize our services. We are counting heavily 
on both of you boys for inspirational music. Sister Ruth will try to 
keep everything running smoothly. She will work with Brother Gregory, 
you two boys, and myself. If any of us have questions, we'll get the 
answers through Ruth. Brother Ray and I will preach on alternate days. 
I'll be giving tonight sermon, and here is a list of hymns I'd like 
you kids to practise."

Jackie took the list. "We'd better tidy up before we work on the 
music."

The area was a mess. Empty bottles, scraps of paper. Jackie had picked 
up something on a stick, and laughingly beckoned me to see what he 
had. It was a long white balloon like thing. There was a small amount 
of liquid on the inside.

"What's that?"

"Well, it's hard to believe but someone got lucky last night during 
the meeting."

"Why lucky?"

"Don't you know what this is?"

"No. I've never seen one. What's it for."

"If you are screwing a girl, you put one of these over your cock so 
you won't get her pregnant."

I looked a little closer. "If that's cum on the inside, the guy didn't 
do much. You made three or four times more than that this morning."

He slid the rubber thing into a paper bag along with the other liter 
we had collected.

Next we evened up the chairs.

Finally we were at the piano. "What do you want to do first?"

"Let's run through the list your mother gave us, then we can spend 
some time on the specialty numbers. I like what you did on the radio 
yesterday afternoon, how do you feel about it?"

"You mean 'Softly and Tenderly?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, I guess, as long as you're leading me with those hand signals."

We were almost half way through the list when Steven Hay came into the 
tent. "Have you seen Harry yet?"

We hadn't and told him so. 

"Well, Harry and I have got an idea that will knock your socks off."

In unison we said, "Oh?"

"It was really Harry's idea so I'll wait for him before telling you." 
He turned toward me, "Your mom asked if we could add an extra 50 feet 
of microphone cable. Got any idea why?"

We didn't.

Steve left, and we continued with our rehearsal.

About two hours later Steve returned. He and Harry were carrying 
something that looked like a large suitcase. They sat it next to the 
piano, and removed the cover. It looked like a large record player, 
except that it had a screw across the top which pulled the head. "This 
is a Presto Disk Recorder, we had to buy two of them to get it at 
wholesale. We use the other one for recording meetings, and stuff on 
location. We can record a half hour by using both sides of one of 
those 16 inch disks.

"Also that extra 50 feet of mic cable your mom wants makes the line to 
the station too long, so we'll connect the microphone to the Presto, 
and then connect the output to the line feeding the station. Steve 
will operate the recorder, making sure the volume level is constant. 
Last night was murder, the volume levels were all over the place. 
About the time I thought I had the level set someone would shout into 
the microphone and almost pop us off of the air."

Jackie asked if they would like to test the recorder. We could record 
the three specialty numbers.

Both Harry and Steven thought that was a great idea, and proceeded to 
get everything connected.

We duplicated "Softly and Tenderly", as we had performed it the previous 
afternoon. No piano, just Jackie leading me through the number.

For the next half hour we rehearsed "Heaven Came down". Jackies keyboard 
antics brought life to that number that went beyond the compos
ers intent.

Finally we started to rehearse "Daddy Sang Bass". It sounded a little 
thin during the first run through. 

It was obvious that we needed some good bass harmonization as backup. 
Steve and Harry offered their services. The next try still wasn't 
good. The boys needed some guidance. I sat back and watched Jackie 
whip them into shape. After the seventh run through he felt it was 
good enough to record.

"Harry, Steve says you've got an idea that will knock our socks off. 
Want to talk about it?" 

Harry's response surprised us. "No, let's hold off till tomorrow. 
There are still a couple of points that I first want to run past my 
dad."

At 6:30 everyone was assembled in the tent. Every seat was occupied, 
and there was no parking space left outside.

Reverend Gregory mounted the platform. "Brothers and Sisters we are 
blessed. God has shown us a way of sharing our ministry, this revival, 
with thousands of people for hundreds of miles. Through the miracle of 
radio we will be broadcasting each service, in its entirety, for the 
length of our stay in your fair city.

"Sister Ruth will open the services with one of God's great gifts, 
singing to the praise of the all mighty."

Ruth came to the front of the platform "Thank you Brother Gregory. 
Brother Jackie Marshall will lead us through "If we could see beyond 
today".

We were into the second verse when the light came on in the KRLA 
transmitter room. I noticed that Steve was recording the service.

The tempo and the spirit of the service continued upward, then suddenly 
reached a precipice off of which it dove, only to build again, and
beyond, before leaping off of a higher cliff.

Again the ramp was being built. Jackie was playing "Hide Thou Me" and 
came to a complete silence at the end of the first verse.

Mother stood in front of the microphone, and in a whisper "This passage 
is from Deuteronomy. The Lord speaketh unto his people referring
to the heathen: 'And he shall say, Where are their gods, their rock in 
whom they trusted, Which did eat the fat of their sacrifices, and 
drank the wine of their drink offerings?" 

She took the microphone from the stand, moved from behind the podium 
to the edge of the platform. Her voice now had more volume, and in 
what I could best describe as mockery she continued, "Let them rise up 
and help you, and be your protection." 

She held the microphone at arms length and shouted with all of her 
strength, "See now that I, am he, and there is no God with me: I kill, 
and I make alive; I wound, and I heal: neither is there any that can 
deliver out of my hand. For I lift up my hand to heaven, and say, I 
live forever."

Ignoring the steps she leaped to the ground, moving toward the congregation, 
her voice filled with awe, "If I whet my glittering sword, and
mine hand take hold on judgment; I will render vengeance to mine 
enemies, and will reward them that hate me. I will make mine arrows 
drunk with blood, and my sword shall devour flesh; and that with the 
blood of the slain and of the captives, from the beginning of revenges 
upon the enemy." Every eye was glued to her as she moved down the 
aisle. She turned back toward the stage walking slowly back to the 
steps, "Rejoice, O ye nations, with his people: for he will avenge the 
blood of his servants, and will render vengeance to his adversaries, 
and will be merciful unto his land, and to his people." 

She returned the microphone to it's stand, "Oh! Hallelujah! If you 
have accepted Jesus Christ as your savior than you are one of HIS 
People."

She turned toward Jackie, "E flat. Johnny come over here. Who made the 
mountains?"

Jackie handed me a hymnal opened to page 95, and pointed at it.

Again, Jackie hit the E flat, and mother repeated, looking directly at 
me as I moved toward her. Who made the mountains?"

My voice followed Jackies lead to G and asked, "Who made the Trees." I 
was expecting a response from her, but didn't get one, so I continued 
following Jackies lead, "Who made the river flow to the sea, and who 
hung the moon in the starry sky?"

She sang out, "SOMEBODY BIGGER THAN YOU AND I".

---------------------------------

The service was over. People lingered, talking with Mama, Jackie, and 
the Gregorys. 

Surreptitiously, I exited from the rear, and sat on the running board 
of Jackie's coupe.

The light from the tent was glaring and stark. I saw a silhouetted 
figure moving toward me. The shape was of someone about Peter's 
height, yet I knew it was not Peter. The outline was of someone wearing 
tight Levi's

I tried to shield my eyes. The person must have realized that I couldn't 
see them and moved to the left so the light was now reflecting off
of the coupe. "Johnny, I love the way you sing." The voice of a girl 
was unexpected. She was taller than was I, and a little older.

As she drew nearer I could see she was wearing an open necked shirt, 
Levi's and western boots. 

"Thank you. I'm not very good, but I practise a lot."

"You are kidding. You ARE good." She was now standing directly in 
front of me. "My name is Mary-Lou, and I live over there." She pointed 
to a light off in the dark distance. "It looks further than it is."

"I don't think I've seen you around."

"No, I don't usually like revival meetings. I went to one the Gregory's 
held last year and it bored the hell out of me. But you an your
Mama make it worth going to."

"Well, thanks.  We've only been with the Gregorys for about a month. 
We joined up with them in Clinton. Our first services were in Fort 
Smith."

"I gotta get home." She started to walk away toward the rear of the 
lot. "If you want to walk part way with me, we could sit along side 
that stream and talk." She pointed in the direction of a small grove 
of trees.

I opened the rumble seat, and withdrew Jerry's old comforter.

She said, "Good Idea. We won't have to sit on the cold ground."

She took hold of my right hand leading me toward the distant light. 
Within a few minutes her hand ceased to lead, and became more intimate.

We spread the blanket along side the rippling brook. The water glistened 
with moon light. We sat there talking mostly about me, and the
imagined adventures that lay ahead. 

I stretched out on my back, looking up at the moon and the stars. Her 
fingers were making circles in my hair. She leaned over and kissed me.

"Have you ever seen a girl without clothes?"

"No, but I'd like to. Have you?"

"No, but I'd like to." She paused for quite a long time then said, 
"Want to?"

She began to unbutton her shirt as I removed my shoes and socks. I 
slipped out of my shirt as she was removing her Levi's. My pants were 
next.

We sat there in the moonlight, me in my jockey shorts, she in white 
panties and bra. My eyes were glued to her breasts as he removed the 
supporting cover. As they were released, they seemed to bounce. Both 
of our hands went to our lower undergarments. We watched each other as 
that last vestige of modesty was discarded. 

We lay next to each other, face to face, our arms embracing, our lips 
tasting the sweet nectar of first passion.

My manhood was erect and horizontal. She positioned it so that it lay 
vertically, imprisoned by the walls of our bodies. The heat radiating 
from her had enveloped my testicles. I remembered what Jimbo had said 
that first night up in the loft, "Gawd I'd like to put my peter in 
there."

And as with any other magical spell cast in the fervent seeking of 
maturity, the wish came to pass.

My little pecker was still at full staff eagerly looking toward further 
adventures when Mary-Lou, kissed me good night, dressed, and
walked off into the darkness.

I held the comforter close to me as I walked toward our trailer, 
thinking of Jerry, and wishing that he had been here tonight to share 
this first rite of manhood.