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 4

WITT’S PERSPECTIVE:

When the pressure of the season was over, the rest of the spring semester seemed like a breeze. Joe and I continued to study together. In fact we’d arranged our schedules for the fall semester so that we had all of the same classes again. We figured we were doing something right since we both got perfect “4.0's” again.

It was hard moving back home for the summer. I love my parents, but I was used to being in the dorm and being more on my own. My sister, Rhonda was home from her college also, and she and I talked about it. She said she’d had the same adjustment problem her first summer back from college. She told me to just deal with it and that mom and dad were probably having adjustment problems of their own having both of us back in the house. I hadn’t thought of it that way.

Rhonda kept pumping me for information about my social life at college. I told her I was a student and an athlete. I didn’t have time for dating.

“Does that mean you haven’t found the right guy yet?”

I hesitated, “Oh, I think I’ve found the guy, but he’s straight.”

“Oh, too bad. Who is it?”

“Ungh ugh, sister. You’re not getting that information out of me. If I tell you who it is, you’ll be calling him up and trying to play cupid. You’d ‘out’ me to everyone on campus.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” She sounded hurt, but I knew if I told her she’d be on the phone in a heartbeat.

Our parents had arranged for both of us to work in the offices of some doctor friends of theirs for the summer. They told us it would be good experience and look good on our medical school applications. My job was interesting and a heck of a lot softer than the construction job Joe Ronkowski was working again that summer.

The doc I was working for took Wednesday afternoons off. One Wednesday in late June, I was just tooling around in my Jeep when I found myself in Joe’s neighborhood. We hadn’t talked to one another since the end of finals, and I decided to stop over at his house to see if he wanted to go out and catch something to eat and go to a movie. Okay, okay, so the real reason was that I missed seeing him. Since it was late afternoon, I thought he might already be home from his construction job.

I pulled up behind their old Horizon in the driveway and walked to the front door.

A delicious smell was coming from the kitchen through the open front windows. I rang the doorbell. Mr. Ronkowski called from the back of the house, “Come in. I’m in the kitchen.”

I looked over the house as I walked back to the kitchen. From the front door, I came right into the living room area. It was furnished with an older but comfortable-looking and well cared for sofa and two chairs facing the TV, a couple of side tables with lamps and lots of pictures on the walls and tables. There was a room off the side of the living room that looked like an office/guest bedroom combination. From the living room I passed into the dining room with a table, chairs, and sideboard. Off the right side of the dining room was a short hallway that opened to two other bedrooms with a bathroom in between. The aroma of whatever Mr. Ronkowski was cooking was much stronger as I moved into the kitchen. He was standing at the stove stirring a steaming pot.

He smiled. “Hello, Witt. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the door. I don’t move too fast these days, and the potato soup needs to be stirred or it burns. Have a seat.”

I sat in on of the chairs at the kitchen table. “I was looking for Joe.”

“He’s not back from his job yet. He’s getting lots of overtime.” He glanced up at the wall clock. “He should be back soon. Maybe half an hour. You can wait. Would you like some tea or water?”

“Thank you, sir. Some water would be nice.”

“Then you get the water while I finish the soup. The glasses are beside the sink, and cold water is in the fridge. Fix a glass for me also. This is hot work today.”

I got the glasses, poured the water, and set the filled glasses on the kitchen table. Mr. Ronkowski tasted the soup, smiled, and turned off the heat.

“The soup needs to set a little before dinner. Bring the water and come with me to the living room. It’s cooler there.”

He moved slowly into the living room using the furniture for stability as he went. I followed with the glasses. He settled into one of the chairs, and I placed his water on the table next to him.

He indicated a couple of prescription bottles on the table next to him. “Would you open those bottles for me. It’s time for my arthritis medicine, and I have trouble with the bottles. I don’t know why they put those caps on. I take the medicine because I can’t bend my fingers, but I need to bend my fingers to get to the medicine.”

I laughed and opened the bottles for him. He shook a pill from both bottles into his hand and swallowed them with a drink of the water.

“Now, why you looking for Joseph?”

“I just wanted to see if he wanted to go to a movie or something tonight.”

“Good. He should go. All he does is work that one.” He waved his arms at the photographs on the walls. “That is Joseph’s family. Look, I tell you about them.”

I moved around the room pointing to different photographs as Mr. Ronkowski told me about each one. “That one is the only picture I have of my family. They were killed by the Germans in the War...

“...that is my wife, my Margareta. We left Poland together to come to this country...

“...those are of Joseph’s father, Stanislaw, while he was growing up...

“...those are of our Joseph when he was little...

“...that was Joseph’s mother, God rest her soul. She died of the cancer when Joseph was only ten...”

I came to the last picture. By that time I’d seen enough of the pictures of Joe’s father when he was young to recognize the man in a police uniform smiling out from the photo. Next to the photograph was a small shadow box with a policeman’s badge in it. There was a ribbon of black cloth diagonally across the badge. Realization hit me hard.

“Joe’s father was killed in the line of duty, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. It was back in ‘91, only about a year after Joseph’s mother died. He was shot when he was on a ‘routine’ call. Joseph was only eleven. He used to be a happy child, smiling and laughing all the time. After his mother died, he and his father became very close. I think a part of Joseph died with his father.”

Suddenly I understood a lot about Joe Ronkowski, about what drove him, about his reserve that people mistook for snobbishness. My eyes started to water.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ronkowski. I didn’t know.”

“Joseph he doesn’t tell anybody about his father. I think it still hurts him too much.” It looked like a tear was forming in the corner of his eye.

“I think it still hurts you too.”

“Yes, but I’m an old man. I learned about losing loved ones during the War.”

On impulse I went over to his chair and picked up his hand. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Ronkowski.”

He patted my hand. “Enough of that ‘Mr. Ronkowski’ business. You call me ‘Grandpa’ like Joseph. I like that.”

I smiled. “Okay, Grandpa.”

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

JOE’S PERSPECTIVE:

One of the guys I worked with dropped me off on the corner of my street. I recognized Witt’s Jeep in our driveway as I neared the house. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what on earth Witt was doing at our house.

He and Grandpa were sitting in the living room when I walked in. “Witt, what are you doing here?”

“Hey, Joe. I just stopped by to see if you wanted to take in a movie or something tonight.”

“I...I really can’t. I’ve got to get up early in the morning...”

Grandpa climbed stiffly out of his chair. “Nonsense. You can go to the early show. If you get back late, it won’t kill you. You need to have some fun. Go get a shower while Witt helps me get the table set for dinner. Witt, you stay for some potato soup.”

Witt flashed a smile at me as he followed my grandfather back toward the kitchen. “Yes, Grandpa.”

I stood there with a dumbstruck look on my face. ‘I wonder what that was all about? And when did Witt Sadler start calling him Grandpa?’

I went back into my room and stripped off my sweaty work clothes. I wasn’t unhappy about being ‘forced’ to go out with Witt. To tell the truth, I’d missed him over the past month, and I was happy to see him. Darn, he looked good. I let my thoughts of Witt Sadler overtake me in the shower, and my dick rose to its full eight inches as I washed. It wouldn’t go down so I ended up jacking off in the shower to mental images of Witt’s caramel colored body. When it was over and my semen was dribbling down the wall of the shower, I was ashamed of myself. Why couldn’t I keep those thoughts out of my mind? Why couldn’t I control myself?

I was pretty quiet during dinner. I was still secretly embarrassed about losing my control in the shower. Grandpa and Witt carried on a conversation and acted like they were good buddies. I knew I’d have to go to a movie with Witt, but I’d make sure we came right back home afterwards.

I actually enjoyed the show. I don’t remember what we saw. It was some Steven Segal action film, I think. I do know that I had a great time. Witt kept making little side cracks during the movie that kept me entertained. Every time he’d say something he’d lean over in the seat and whisper in my ear. I could feel his breath on my cheek and his leg pressed against mine. Despite having jerked off in the shower my dick was half hard and leaking precum through most of the movie. I was afraid there would be a wet spot on the front of my jeans when the movie was done and the lights came back on.

We stopped and picked up a couple of soft drinks and went back to my house. We sat on the porch for a while and talked. He challenged me to a little one-on-one basketball. We spent about an hour shooting hoops at the end of the driveway.

As he was getting into his Jeep to go home, I said, “Thanks, Witt. I had a good time. Let’s do this again.”

He put his big hand on the back of my neck and squeezed gently. “I had a good time too, Joe. What about Saturday night? You don’t have to work on Sunday, do you?”

“No. Grandpa and I will go to Mass, but that doesn’t have to be early. Why don’t you come over for dinner?”

“I’ll be here as long as it’s your grandfather cooking and not you.”

I smacked his arm playfully as he started his SUV. “See you on Saturday then.”

“You got a date.”

‘Date!? Why did he say that? Get a grip, Joe!’

**********

Witt and I got together three or four times a week over the rest of the summer. Some times we went to a movie. Other times we just went out for a soft drink or cruised around town in his Jeep. About half the time, he ate dinner with us. Whenever Grandpa found out that Witt and I were going to be doing something he always asked if Witt was coming to dinner that night. A couple of times, Witt brought the food and cooked it. He said he owed us for all the food he’d been eating at our house. He wasn’t the best cook, but Grandpa appreciated the break from the kitchen. What ever else we did, we always ended up shooting hoops in the driveway.

Witt started keeping a pair of shorts and sneakers in his car to change into when we played. Afterwards he would take a shower before we went out or before he went home. I looked forward to those driveway games, and it wasn’t because we were playing basketball. It was because I got chances to brush up against his nearly naked body while we played. Some times I spent the entire playing time half hard and more than half afraid he’d notice.

One time toward the end of the summer, he gave me a hug when we quit playing. He’d given me an occasional sideways shoulder squeeze before, and I secretly enjoyed the feeling of his sweaty body next to mine and the distinctive smell of his perspiration. It always gave me an instant erection. This time, though, it was a full chest-to-chest both arms-around-the-back kind of hug. I relaxed into him for a second. I thought I could feel his dick pressing against my leg. Suddenly I realized I was getting hard. I pulled away so he wouldn’t feel it, but he must have because he left hurriedly right after that.

I thought I’d really blown it, but in spite of that indiscretion on my part, he was back the next evening as if nothing had happened.

Our driveway games often attracted a crowd of neighborhood guys ranging in age from six or seven up to seventeen or eighteen. About half the time we’d end up in impromptu games of three-on-three or four-on-four. Witt and I were generally on opposite sides for those games, and while we played hard against one another there was none of the kind of just under the surface animosity that had marked our high school matches.

One of the kids who played with us was Reggie Winters. Reggie was sixteen that summer and had played the previous season on the varsity squad at John F. Kennedy High School, our local public school. He was a big, rangy kid with a mop of light brown hair and a lot of potential. Both Witt and I enjoyed having him over and giving him pointers. One night he told us he wanted to play on the Alberts College team with us when he was done with high school.

**********

The weekend before school was to start for the fall, Witt invited me to come over to his house for the evening. I was reluctant at first but he told me, “Come on, Joe. I’ve got a basketball goal out in my driveway too. We’ve been playing over here at your place all summer. You’ve got to give me the home court advantage at least once.”

From the directions he’d given, I knew his house was in a swanky neighborhood, but I was not prepared for what I saw. Huge old oak trees lined the street. All the houses were set way back from the street with expansive and immaculately cared for front yards. I pulled the old rusty Horizon into their drive and let out a big sigh.

The house was a Tudor style with two full floors plus an attic. I pulled grandpa’s old rattletrap into the parking area and headed to the front door. I was shaking I was so nervous. What was a kid from a neighborhood like mine doing in a place like this? Better yet, what was Witt doing hanging around with a kid from a neighborhood like mine?

Before I could ring the doorbell, Witt opened the door.

“Joe, come on in. Let’s meet the parents first and then we can see about the home court advantage.”

He led me back through the house. I’d never been in a place like that! Each room off the main hallway was tastefully and expensively decorated. At the back of the house we came into a big family room with glass doors all along the outer wall looking out onto the gardens and a big pool. His parents and sister all rose to greet me. I could see where Witt got his good looks. They had to be three of the most handsome people I’d ever seen.

Witt introduced his mother first. Dr. Shelia Williams-Sadler was nearly six feet tall and slender. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties, but I knew from conversations with Witt that she had just turned 51 earlier in the summer. Her black hair was elegantly swept away from her face. Her eyes were the same chocolate brown as Witt’s; her skin coloring could best be described as a light caramel. She extended her hand. The fingers were long and slender. She had a surprisingly firm grip for a woman.

“Joe, Witt has told us so much about you. I’m so glad to meet you.”

Dr. Anderson DeWitt Sadler Sr. was nearly as tall as Witt and I. He still had an athletic looking body, although he’d added a few pounds over the years. Like his wife, his face was that of someone in their mid to late thirties. It was only the white at his temples and occasional fleck of gray in his short curly hair that testified to his true age. He was a little darker in complexion than Witt. He also gave me a firm handshake.

“Welcome, Joe.”

Witt’s sister, Rhonda, was a knockout. She could have been a fashion model. She was not quite six feet tall with beautiful almond shaped eyes in a flawless face. She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek that caused a deep blush to creep up from my neck.

“I’m glad to meet you, Joe. Why don’t you transfer up to my school. Heaven knows we could use a good looking guy like you on campus.”

“Easy, Sis. I don’t want to lose Joe as a teammate. Don’t pay any attention to her, Joe. She likes to play the vamp, but she’s a real nerd at heart.”

Rhonda stuck out her tongue, and everyone laughed.

“Come on up to my room, Joe. We can change and test out my ‘home court advantage’.”

We excused ourselves from the rest of the Sadler family, and Witt led me up the stairs to his room.

His room was really a suite. I tried to keep my jaw from flapping open, but darn, his room had to be almost as big as half of my house! There was a sitting area with a dynamite entertainment center, a work area with a desk and computer, a king sized bed, plenty of closets, and an adjoining private bathroom with a double sized shower. I thought again, ‘What in the world is this guy doing hanging around with me?’

Witt indicated for me to toss my gym bag on the bed. I did and pulled my shorts and shirt out. When I turned around he was stark naked fishing around in his dresser for clothes. I took in his beautiful body, long muscular legs, tight ass muscles, and of course his slightly darker circumcised penis growing out of the dark tight wiry pubic hair. As I felt the stirring in my groin, I turned away from him to hide my partial erection as I changed.

Witt lead me out to the back of the house to a half-sized basketball court next to the four-car garage. Witt’s black Jeep was in one of the stalls of the garage. The others were occupied by a Volvo convertible, a 740 BMW, and a big S-class Mercedes. My doubts about what a poor kid like me was doing in a place like this returned, but they were forgotten as we started shooting hoops.

We played for about an hour before Witt’s mom warned us that dinner would be ready in a few minutes. We took quick showers up in Witt’s room and came down to the dining room just as the food was going on the table. The Sadlers did everything they could to make me comfortable. Despite the luxurious surroundings, they seemed like ‘normal’ people to me. Normal people with piles of money.

(To be continued)