This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual activities between males. If you are not of legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now.

The author retains all rights to this story. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the permission of the author.

Note: I owe a special thanks to Robb for doing the final proofreading and catching all those silly little errors that I missed.

LOVE ON THE COURT

CHAPTER 3

JOE’S PERSPECTIVE:

Man, I thought I’d screwed up big time. When Coach Melton called DeWitt Sadler and me into his office after practice and started chewing us out, I thought he was going to suspend us from the team or something. All he did was tell us to start acting like we played on the same team. To help us learn how to do that, he wanted us to study together twice a week and eat lunch together twice a week. He also said Sadler and I would be roommates when the team was traveling.

Witt (he told me to call him that instead of DeWitt) and I talked a little after Coach left us alone, and we worked out a time to study. I guessed it would be a help to have some one to study with, and he was in all of my classes. I told him I had a problem with staying on campus very late in the evening, and he agreed to get together that Saturday either in the library or his dorm room. I wasn’t sure I could keep control of myself alone with him in his dorm room so I agreed to meeting at the library.

The showers were empty by the time we got there. Major problem. In high school I was always afraid I’d get a boner in the showers. I knew it’s because I was thinking impure thoughts, and I’d try not to, but it was like my dick has a mind of its own. I would hurry through the showers and dressing with the team to get out before my dick embarrassed me. My “problem” was a little more under control since I was older, but it was going to be just Witt and me in the shower room. I kept telling myself, ‘Don’t look. Don’t look!’

But I did look while he had his head under the shower spray. He may have had me by a couple of pounds, but generally we were built just about the same. Of course his skin is darker than mine. I’m real light, even for a white guy. He’s light complected for a black guy. His skin was the color of coffee with lots of cream. His eyes were dark brown with long black lashes. He wasn’t real massive, but there was a nice “V” to his torso. He didn’t have much in the way of body hair. The black hair in his pits was short and curly just like that on his head. His penis was cut and darker in color than the rest of his skin with the head was a couple of shades lighter than the shaft. It looked to be about the same length as mine when it was soft (4-5 inches) but thicker. His ball sack looked full and hung low, and his pubic hair was black and tight.

I shouldn’t have looked. My dick started to rise so I rinsed off quickly and headed into the dressing area.

He was just pulling on his jeans when I finished dressing. I went over to him and stuck out my hand.

“Thanks, Witt. I guess I’ve been kind of an asshole.”

He took my hand in both of his and flashed a killer smile that showed perfect white teeth. “What do you mean ‘kind of’?”

I smiled. “See you tomorrow afternoon.”

I headed out the door because I needed to catch the bus and because I’d felt some more stirring in my crotch, and I needed to get away before he saw the tent growing in my pants.

**********

The next morning I told Grandpa that I had to go back to the college in the afternoon to study with Witt. He told me he was glad I was making friends. I had to tell him about Coach Melton’s “talk” with us after practice.

“Joseph, I know you and Sadler had a rivalry going in high school. He was the only one who ever got under your skin when you were playing. I think it was because the two of you play almost exactly alike. Your coach is right. You two are on the same team now. He could be a good friend. You’ve never had close friends, Joseph.”

I hung my head. “I could never tell if people were trying to be friends out of pity.”

“Pity! What do you mean.”

“Grandpa, I never fit in with the rich kids over at St. Stephen’s. They all knew I was there only because the priests knew I could play basketball.”

“Joseph, that’s not true. You need to open your heart, son. You can’t go on blaming every one else or yourself because your papa was killed. You listen to me, Joseph. Open up. Let some one inside that shell.”

“Yes, Grandpa.” But I knew I couldn’t. The shell was there to keep every one from seeing the perverted thing that lived inside. I couldn’t let any one see that.

**********

I had to admit that studying with Witt did help me understand the problem sets in chemistry. He said it helped him too. It was kind of reassuring to see that he was having to work hard for his grades like I was. I thought it would come easy to all those rich kids.

We set up a schedule for studying. Wednesday nights I stayed on campus after practice. We’d catch some dinner at the cafeteria and then go to the library or to his dorm room to study but only after I knew I could “control” myself and certain parts of my body when I was close to him. I met his roommate, Robert who was on the track team and seemed like a good guy. He and Witt seemed to get along really well. On Saturday afternoons, Witt and I would get together at the library for studying. Since we had the same class schedule, we started walking together from one class to the next.

We were still competitive with one another on the basketball court, but not like before. Coach Melton took us aside one day after practice and told us how happy he was that we were getting along better. Despite myself, I found that I really liked the guy. He seemed to like me too, but I knew I had to keep some distance. He’d turn on me in an instant if he knew that I thought about him when I jacked off. The whole team would turn on me if they knew!

The season started in November. As Coach had indicated, Witt and I were assigned as roommates when the team traveled to out of town games. A lot of the guys used the travel time for goofing around, but since Witt and I had some pretty tough classes we mostly stayed in our room and studied.

All that studying paid off too. We both pulled “4.0's” in all our courses that semester.

On the court, Coach had one of the few seniors on the team as the starting point guard with Witt and me alternating in the other guard position. We got roughly the same amount of playing time, and our stats were almost identical.

Our last game before Christmas that year was out of town. We played well and won the game handily. It was late when we got back to the hotel where the team was staying. We got back to our room and Witt dug into his suitcase and handed me a package done up in Christmas paper.

“Merry Christmas.”

“What’s this for?”

“It’s for Christmas, Joe.”

“But I didn’t get you anything.”

“This isn’t a trade, Joe. This is Christmas. It’s about telling people that you care for them and like them.”

I sat with the heavy package on my lap.

“Well, open it.”

I tore off the brightly colored paper. It was a brand new copy of the textbook we would be using for the calculus course we were both taking in the spring semester.

I looked up at him. He was smiling. “I know you bought all used books for last semester. I thought you might like to have a book that didn’t have someone else’s underlining in it already.”

“Witt, I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

“Damn it, Joe. Let me be the judge of what’s too much. When are you going to drop that chip off your shoulder, man?”

He quickly shucked off his warm up suit and climbed into his bed. He rolled over on his side facing away from me. I knew he was pissed at me.

“Witt.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the book. I’m sorry if I seemed ungrateful. It was a really nice thing for you to do.”

“You’re welcome. Good night.” He stayed facing away from me.

Man, I blew it. I should have just said thanks, but I knew that book was expensive because I’d already been shopping around for used books to save money.

**********

Witt and I didn’t say much to each other the next morning at breakfast, on the plane ride back home, or on the bus back to campus. It was a rainy, cold December day. Any colder and the rain would have been ice. I grabbed my gear off the team bus and headed across the deserted campus to catch the city bus for home.

The rain had soaked through my jacket and the sweatshirt underneath, and still there was no sign of the city bus. Just then a black Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited pulled up to the bus stop.

The windows were tinted so I couldn’t see the driver. The passenger window came down, and I saw Witt leaning across from the driver’s seat.

“Come on, Joe. Get in. I’ll take you home. You’ll have pneumonia before the bus comes.”

I started to protest, but a big, cold raindrop rolled down my collar giving me a chill. I swallowed my pride and climbed in.

“Thanks, Witt.”

“No problem, man. Just give me some directions.”

“Witt, I’m sorry I was a jackass last night. The book is really nice.”

He flashed a smile. “Hey, no problem, bro. You’re forgiven, and I’m sorry I got so bent out of shape. Now just tell me which way to go.”

**********

After Christmas and New Years our game schedule really picked up. Witt and I also had another set of tough courses: second semester biology, second semester chemistry, calculus, and intro to literature. We still studied together two nights a week since we had all our classes together again.

We did pretty well on the court too. Coach had both of us in the game at the same time several times. We made a good pair. Our playing was similar enough that we had a sense of where the other would be on the court. That helped defeat a couple of our league rivals.

########################################

WITT’S PERSPECTIVE:

I thought Joe and I were making progress on our relationship. We studied together, and made darn good grades as a result. He had a real methodical approach to everything. I wasn’t the most organized person in the world so I think he helped me more than I helped him. We were getting along well in practice and were sharing playing time during the games. We roomed together when we were traveling with the team.

Even with all that interaction, there was a part of him I just couldn’t reach. He never fully let himself go. It kind of frustrated and fascinated me at the same time. Of course I never told him that I was gay so I guess he wasn’t the only one keeping a part of his life closed.

I did manage to get him to smile more and to mix more with the other guys on the team. Some progress at least.

All that progress just about went up in smoke near Christmastime. I’d noticed that all of his textbooks were used ones. His clothes were clean and all that, but there weren’t any fancy labels on any of them. Most of the guys were in to Old Navy, A&F, Calvin Klein and that sort of thing. His stuff was all off-brand and his boxer shorts were from K-Mart (Yeah, I checked ‘em out one time when he was in the shower in the hotel room). I knew he lived at home and took the city bus back and forth to campus so I figured his folks didn’t have a lot of money. I bought a brand new copy of the book we would be using in calculus in the spring semester as a Christmas present. I thought he’d be pleased.

Wrong.

Instead of being pleased, he was upset that he hadn’t bought any thing for me. I tried to tell him that I didn’t care about that, but we exchanged some words, and although he tried to apologize I was kind of pissed when we went to bed that night.

When we got back to campus the next day, the weather was really bad...a cold, almost sleety rain. Joe grabbed his stuff off the bus and disappeared like he always did. I talked to some of the guys for a bit and then climbed into the Jeep Grand Cherokee I’d gotten for graduation. I had intended to head straight home, but on a whim I went around to the other side of campus where the city bus stop was located. Joe was there waiting for the bus. He looked wet and cold.

I pulled up to the bus stop and hit the button to lower the passenger side window. “Come on, Joe. Get in. I’ll take you home. You’ll have pneumonia before the bus comes.”

He hesitated for a second before throwing his gear in the back seat and climbing into the passenger seat beside me. “Thanks, Witt.”

“No problem, man. Just give me some directions.”

“Witt, I’m sorry I was a jackass last night. The book is really nice.”

I gave him my best smile. “Hey, no problem, bro. You’re forgiven, and I’m sorry I got so bent out of shape. Now just tell me which way to go.”

His house wasn’t all that far away from mine, but while I lived in an upscale section of town, Joe’s house was at the end of the street in an older, working class neighborhood. It was a workman’s cottage type, just a single story with an open porch across the front. I pulled into the driveway behind an old Dodge Omni or Plymouth Horizon. I didn’t see any other cars. There was a basketball goal on a pole at the end of the drive. In my mind, I could see him out there shooting baskets.

He thanked me for the book and the ride, wished me a Merry Christmas, and headed into the house.

**********

Coach Melton gave both of us a good bit of playing time the rest of the season. Joe and I worked well together on the court. He was so much like me in the way he handled himself on the court that I had a sense of where he was and what he was doing on the court without even looking. More importantly, I had a sense of what he was going to do so it was easy to anticipate his next move.

After our last home game of the season, a bunch of us on the team were going to go out clubbing. Joe had left the locker room a little earlier like always. We were heading out the doors of the gym laughing and joking with one another when I spotted Joe and an old man coming slowly down the hallway.

The old guy was having trouble walking. He was using a cane and leaning heavily on Joe’s arm. I told the other guys that I’d catch up with them later and went back to see if Joe needed some help.

“Hi, Joe. Can I help?”

He looked up. There was one of his quick smiles. “Thanks. I think we’re okay.”

The old man cleared his throat, and Joe said, “Oh, yeah. Grandpa, this is Witt Sadler. Witt this is my grandfather, Witold Ronkowski.”

I extended my hand. The old man had a firm grip. He looked me straight in the eyes, smiled, and said, “I’m glad to meet you Witt. Joseph he talks about you a lot. You two work good on the court and on the books together.” His English was accented.

“I’m glad to meet you too, Mr. Ronkowski.”

“I’ve got arthritis. Can’t walk like I used to. It takes me a long time to get out of the stands and to the car. Joseph’s always patient with me.”

“Is someone bringing your car up to the doorway?”

“No. No. It’s just me and Joseph.”

“Joe, why don’t you go get your granddad’s car while I walk him to the door.”

I got another quick smile. “Thanks. I’ll do that. Don’t let Grandpa talk your ear off.” He ran off down the corridor.

Mr. Ronkowski and I made slow progress toward the door. It was obvious that walking was difficult for him.

“So I’ve heard a lot about you, Witt. Joseph says you help him with his classes. He don’t say much about the other boys on the team, but I hear your name all the time. I think you’re his good friend.

“Joseph he doesn’t always say what he thinks. You know what I mean?”

I smiled. “Yes. I’ve noticed that.”

The old man chuckled, “My Joseph he’s afraid to let people in. Ever since his father died, he doesn’t get too close to anybody. I think he’s afraid that they’ll go away if he does.”

“Mr. Ronkowski, I didn’t know that Joe’s father was dead.” Actually the news sort of stunned me. “He never says anything about his family.”

“Not much family to talk about now. It’s just me and Joseph. His mama died when he was ten. Joe got real close to his father, but his father died a year later. After that he came to live with his grandmother and me. She died two years ago.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ronkowski. I really didn’t know that. Joe never said anything.”

“That’s my Joseph. He keeps too much inside him I think. He thinks a lot of you. I know that. He doesn’t make a lot of friends, but I think you are one. Thank you.”

“Mr. Ronkowski, I don’t know what to say. I like Joe a lot, but he doesn’t open up very much. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking most of the time.”

“Don’t give up. He’s a good kid. Ah, here he is.”

By that time we were near the door. I could see the old Horizon parked just outside. Joe was walking rapidly back toward us.

“The car’s right here, Grandpa. Let’s get you home. It’s late for you.”

I helped Joe get the old man into the car. I stood by the passenger door as Joe went around to the driver’s side. Before getting into the car and driving away, he stopped, gave me one of those quick half smiles, and said, “Thanks, Witt. I appreciate your help. Grandpa was getting really tired.”

I watched the old car head out of the parking lot. I thought, ‘Joe, Joe, what other things are you keeping inside?’

(To be continued)