tagText With AudioChicken Skin Ch. 01

Chicken Skin Ch. 01


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I guess you could call it an odd turn in my career to end up in Belt Turn, Kentucky playing guitar to a packed house at the civic center and farm equipment show grounds. Even if it seems hard to believe, this gig was just a quick diversion from our band's incredibly successful Farm and Hog tour. Now, a Farm and Hog tour for a guitarist who thought himself ready to headline with Nine Inch Nails, A Perfect Circle, or Tool may not seem impressive, but it sure paid the bills.

After several failed efforts with an up and coming, tragically ending band, I stumbled into a group that called themselves "The East-Tennessee Carvers." Since most of the members were from Texas, with one Hawaiian, I wondered about their name, but they needed an electric guitarist, so I gave it a whirl. We began rehearsing with an eclectic mix of musicians playing an odd assortment of instruments. The basic set used the drums, of course, an electric guitar, an acoustic guitar, a bass guitar, an accordion, an alto clarinet and the vocal talents of a Ms. Earline Thibedeaux Foxline.

They called the music Chicken Skin, but it hardly resembled anything poor Ry Cooder would have imagined. In truth, we played an odd mix of bluegrass, Hawaiian folk, rock-a-billy, country, bee-bop, with a dab of Chicken Skin for flavor. I was the rock in the rock-a-billy I guess. Surprisingly, it was a hit, at least in the Appalachian foothills and river towns it was.

Proudly, I was the creator, of sorts, of our biggest hit, an obliteration of the rock classic "Smoke on the Water." Besides my guitar licks, the song was pretty unrecognizable and altering the lyrics with our new title "Smoke on the Okra" and twisting the music to a bluegrass rhythm added a whole new flavor to the effort. Believe me, you haven't lived until you have heard Earline sing of the "great okra fire" to the strains of the alto clarinet and my guitar riff: "dah, dah-dah, dah dah ta-dah... dah dah dah, dah-dah." Oh yeah, every time we played it, Elvin, our alto clarinetist got showered with panties.

Elvin got the panties (most were those oversize granny panties, but hey, he loved it) and I got the attention of Ms. Earline. Impressed with my "tiptoeing hell's bridge" attitude, as she called it, to the guitar, she began hinting her interest towards me. At first it was subtle, but soon it reached the point where she'd simply go wherever I went, pretty much anywhere I went.

Flattering though it was, I initially wasn't very interested in making it with a seventy three year old, ex-trumpet player, now lead singer. Yeah, I wasn't any teenager myself, pushing thirty now, but this woman was almost old enough to be my grandmother. I tried to politely avoid her, but in the close quarters we shared on the bus and as we rehearsed, it was basically impossible and on a long bus ride to Knoxville, Tennessee it happened.

I had a few too many beers and she was especially convincing on that long bus ride, so when the other band members dozed off, we slipped to the far back of the bus and settled in. I sat down as she pretty much took over, quickly unbuckling my belt and unbuttoning my pants. I struggled a bit, but soon my zipper slid down and I felt her cool, expert hands on my quickly stiffening cock. Running the fingers of both hands all over the length of me, she had me nearly coming in seconds. Finally gaining some composure, I spread my legs as she settled onto her knees and took my cock in her mouth. Now, a trumpet player will develop very strong muscles to be able to properly blow with the necessary intensity to reach those impossible high notes. Well, those same muscles must work very well in reverse because the suction she applied to my throbbing rod damn near lifted me off the seat.

It wasn't just the suction that blew me away, it was the rippling something she did with her cheeks that rolled over my cock with an incredible wet wave of motion. While she sucked, her tongue, independent of the motion of the rest of her mouth, swirled around the head, quickly coaxing from me an explosive, eye opening orgasm that reverberated through the depth of me like the endless feedback of a Jimi Hendrix flaming guitar. I came and came, spurting my hot white into her mouth.

Leaning back in the seat, I ran my hand along my arm and felt goosebumps as my hair stood on its end. Finally understanding the true meaning of chicken skin music, I looked down at Earline, studying her face in a completely different manner. She was no longer the grandmotherly woman who could sing up a storm, she had an alluring curl that tumbled across her forehead. The wrinkles at her eyes seemed to highlight the compelling hazel that passionately seared through you. Freckles dotted her strong cheekbones and her rounded chin curved perfectly beneath her incredibly full lips.

Swallowing the last of my come, she looked up at me with a smile, knowing this was just the beginning of a long and sensuous journey. As for me, I was looking forward to finishing up in Knoxville and then the long bus trip to Belt Turn where I could snuggle up to Earline.

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