Dealing With Adversity

Disclaimers: With this being my 100th submission, I've decided to take my wife's suggestion, and write about something she is well versed in. Seeing that she is a retired clinical social worker, I'm going to attempt to convey how difficult a relationship can be while dealing with any form of mental illness.

If this subject bothers you, please click out and find something more suited to your taste. Against my better wishes, I'm allowing comments, as long as they have names on them. I haven't allowed anonymous comments for several years.

More disclaimers: Each and every person in this story partaking in any sort of sexual hijinks, is at least eighteen years of age. Even though this story is 'fiction' lets call it fact based fiction. There just might be some characters from previous stories reappearing here.

Even more disclaimers. There just might some part of this story that can be considered Interracial, but you WILL NOT find that forbidden word that has me on The Three Stooges' shit list.

If you're looking for wall to wall sex, again, click out and find another story to gaze at.

I'll use the well worn phrase from the Law and Order TV franchises, "Ripped From The Headlines"

A little back story, so you can get some idea where this fictional reading is coming from.

My name is Cameron Walker, Cam to my family and friends, and after an abriviated five plus, very successful years in the NBA, I'm now spending my days rehabbing my severely injured left knee.

You see, it was the second game of my sixth season in the best basketball league in the world, when just running down the court, ahead of the rest of my team, that my left knee just collapsed underneath me.

Feeling like somebody smashed me with a baseball bat, or the business end of an axe, I knew my season was finished, if not my entire career.

A little more back story is called for, here.

From the time I could dribble my little kids ball when I was four years old, all I wanted to do was play basketball. It didn't hurt that I was the tallest kid in all my grades at school.

As I continued to grow taller, I just never gained much weight. You may find this hard to believe, but even as I grew older, and was eating my parents out of house and home, my dad's words, not mine, I just didn't put on much weight. I also reminded my folks that my older sister, Brenda, and older brother Andy helped empty the pantry shelves, with me.

Entering middle school, I was nearing six feet tall, and was already better than most of the eighth graders in my school. I must add that our school didn't have much of a history of great basketball teams.

It was during middle school that I started my second favorite thing to do. I started playing the saxophone. If I wasn't on the basketball court, I was playing music. Every type of music I could find. Jazz. Rock and roll. Even country and western. If I could find sheet music, I learned to play the songs.

I drove my family crazy learning the Dave Brubeck classic from 1959, Take 5. I then found a little ditty called Yakety Sax, by Boots Randolph done in 1958.

Years after its release, this song became the theme song for the raucous British comedy show, Benny Hill.

I fould that if I didn't want to bother my family, I started practicing in our garage.

While not claiming to be one of the greats, I thought I was pretty good on my sax.

In the small, but growing community of North Bend, Washington, we had one high school, Mount Si, pronounced Sigh, also with a less than a stellar history on the hard woods.

I continued growing all through my middle school years, reaching just under six feet five inches, as I was about to enter my freshman year at Mount Si High School.

Even at six five, I barely topped one fifty. But I was a better ball handler than anyone on our team, so I was the starting point guard, even as a freshman.

All throughout my freshman season, we actually had one of the better seasons in our school's history. I also was the highest scoring freshman in our conference's history, averaging over twenty-five points per game.

As each season progressed, my scoring got even better, plus our team started to win more and more games, making the playoffs, three years in a row, a first in our school's history. I was also drawing some attention from basketball powerhouse schools from all over the country.

Both of my parents kept me grounded, by telling me to remember my education still came first. A fact I was keenly aware of.

Both my Junior and Senior seasons, we made it to the state tournament, finishing fifth my Junior year, and third my Senior year.

Graduating with a so-so grade average, I had over eighty college offers to weigh.

Another item I should bring up, here, is both my older siblings would talk about a specific girl in school with them. Cindy Randolph. She was in my brother's class, a year behind my sister.

All I ever heard about this girl was that she wasn't all there, mentally. This was the first I'd ever heard the term bi-polar. Since I was way more interested in basketball, I didn't pay much attention to this information.

Back to my basketball dreams.

As my Senior year was ending, I had a decision to make. Still standing a fraction over six feet five, my weight had balooned to a robust one hundred and seventy pounds.

Still very much on the thin side, I did spend many hours in the small weight room our school had. Skinny, yes, but through my several years of weight training, I wasn't easily pushed around.

Spending the last few months of my senior year trying to decide on where to take my basketball talents next, I finally decided to stay right at home, and committed to the University of Washington.

I knew they were just a middle of the conference team. One whose successes were few and far between, lately. I had visions in my eighteen year old head of leading the Huskies into the national limelight.

Aside from getting ready for my freshman season to start, I found more than a few girls more than willing to teach me the finer points of fucking.

I must insert here a fact or two about my high school dating experience.

I did date, but soon found out most of the girls I dated had been warned about a specific physical quality I possessed.

You see, I happen to be blessed, or cursed, depending who you look at it, with nearly nine inches of fairly think manhood.

Add this to the word of mouth of some of my more talkative teammates, and the girls who would date me were on the very shy side to give me more than a casual hand job. And this wasn't until I was already a senior in high school.

One of the girls I met, walking around my sprawling campus was a girl named Trina Short. Her last name was a direct opposite to reality. She stood just over six feet tall, and probably weighed a good one seventy.

Needless to say, she was well put together. Not overweight, but built for comfort.

After talking with her on several occasions, which included a coffee, or two, actually, she drank the coffee, I usually just had a lemonade, or other soft drink. Anyway, after these few interactions, we started kissing one afternoon, when she lowered one hand to my crotch.

With her eyes flying open, and whispering, "is that all you?" I shyly told her it was.

Sitting on this bench, she took off the light sweater she was wearing, and reached inside my shorts and freed my growing manhood from its confines.

"Wrong time of the month to do much more, so just sit and enjoy" she whispered.

With that she sat on my lap, with my cock at full staff, being softly rubbed by her very smooth hand. Just as I could feel my explosion starting, she glanced all around, and seeing nobody nearby, lowered her head under her sweater and engulfed the head of my cock with her very warm mouth just as I shot stream after stream of white hot cum straight down her throat.

I couldn't believe what she just did, and out in the open, no less.

I also was very aware of just how free spirited she was, and I knew I was in for quite some adventure.

Two days later, who should I see walking towards me, with a mile wide grin? You bet, Trina Short. Wearing a minimum of clothing, I could detect the fact she wasn't wearing a bra, allowing her full C cups to have a very nice jiggle while she was walking.

After a toe curling kiss, with her crotch as close to my already growing bulge as possible, we started for her dorm room. She whispered that her roommate was gone for a day, or two, so I figured we had some time to ourselves.

Getting inside her dorm, I barely got the door locked, when she had my shorts and boxer briefs around my ankles. Taking my cock in both hands, she ran her tongue down one side, lightly licked my balls, then licked back up to my already rock hard tip.

My God, could this girl give head!

Lifting her up, onto her feet, I lifted the light shirt she was wearing, off over her head, confirming the fact she misplaced her bra.

Taking each boob in my hands, I leaned down, lightly biting one nipple at a time. While not very large, they were very sensitive, causing her breathing to come in short gasps.

Moving to her bed, losing the rest of our clothes, I moved my face downward, kissing every inch of her very nice body.

With one of my very long fingers already buried in her extremely wet sex, I moved in the place to remove my finger, and replaced it with my tongue.

While not being in Gene Simmons' class with tongue length, I managed to illicit some very throaty moans, as I covered every possible fold in her already soaking wet honey pot.

Moving into position to reciprocate, I soon felt her mouth encompass over half my almost nine inches, and start bobbing, ever so slowly.

While not being a squirter, she did get my face damp with as sweet a nectar as I could recall. Again, she had no qualms about swallowing my entire load. Not one drop spilled.

Laying side by side, cuddling, she whispered to me, as she felt my manhood start to grow, again.

"You know, Cam, you don't need a condom, if you choose."

Grabbing one from the pocket of my shorts, and putting it place, I quietly told her that at least this first time, I wasn't taking any chances.

She rolled me on my back, and climbed aboard, impaling herself on my rock hard manhood.

With her riding me like a pro, her body shaking with two or three orgasms, she got off of me, moved around wiggling her nicely round behind at me, while on all fours, I moved into the position we both knew we wanted to continue, and slid my still solid cock into her smoldering sex.

Away we went, off to the races. With me holding both boobs, her body kept shaking like we were in an earthquake.

One time I nearly slipped out, and upon getting back inside, my condom covered cock touched her little brown pucker, lightly.

"Not a chance, cowboy. Way too big!"

Easing my way back to where it belonged, we continued, at a fevered pitch.

Although not all that experienced, I was very aware she was my favorite, hands down.

For the next few weeks, each spare minute we had, we were in bed, fucking or sucking, or both. If we weren't in bed, we were on her small table, or should I say, she was bent over her table.

Because there were dormitory style showers, we didn't dare get caught fucking in the shower. That area was not co-ed.

I did not have to be reminded that I was in school on a basketball scholarship, and not a sex ed scholarship, so I did have to study.

I found most of my basic subjects boring, but did take to my Psych 101 class with a greart deal of enthusiasm.

Ever since my brother and sister told me about Cindy Randolph, the subject piqued my curiosity.

I was actually doing fairly well in each of my classes, knowing I had to achieve good grades in order to be eligible to play the sport I loved.

I was also keenly aware that my time with Trina, or any other girl would be cut short as soon as basketball training started in mid October.

I don't want anyone reading this to think I was spending my every waking minute chasing the elusive two legged deer.

As soon as our workouts began, my sexlife took a back seat to the real reason I was in college.

Even as I realized how much I enjoyed my classes, I was fairly certain I was in the 'one and done' category, meaning I'd be declaring for the NBA draft at the end of this season, and forego the rest of my eligibility.

I did promise my parents that I would continue taking classes during my off season.

As my freshman season started, I was keenly aware that the level of play in my power 5 conference was light-years ahead of my high school play, the past four years.

It only took the first few minutes of play for me to realize I was exactly where I wanted to be.

The first game of my college career turned out to be fairly productive. I scored 28 points, dished out a dozen assists plus grabbing 7 rebounds.

As the season progressed, our Husky team started playing better than we had for several years. We were actually thinking about making a return to post season play.

One of the things about the rigors of a thirty plus game season, was the non existence of my sex life. First, and foremost, I was either playing or practicing, so there was a minimum of free time for anything other than studying.

As our regular season was winding down, and our conference championship was next, we knew it would take a win or two for our team to be considered for the NCAA tournament.

Going into our conference tournament, we were ceded sixth in our twelve team conference. Not too bad, but we still had to perform at our highest level.

We actually ran away from our first opponent, and beat the second one, putting us into the semi-finals. With us already having twenty-two wins, we were fairly certain of getting an invite to 'The Big Dance' Now. all we had to do was play really good against the number one team in our conference.

Our luck ran out in the semi finals, but we were rewarded with a trip to the East Regional, as a number 7 seed. Not too shabby for a team making its first appearance in the tournament in six years.

We now had five days to practice, and let any end of the season injuries heal

Our first day back on campus, with Coach giving us a well deserved day off, who did I run into? You guessed it. Trina Short.

It seemed as if she was almost as horny as I was, because as soon as we got to her empty dorm room, our clothes were off, my solid nine inches were in her mouth, and my tongue and two fingers were in her smoldering sex. Just for good measure, I added another finger in her cute, rounded behind.

It didn't take more than five or six minutes for us to both explode.

Knowing this was my only day off for a while, we stayed in bed for most of the day, and well into the night. Breaking only for dinner and a shower, or two.

Having very little inhibitions, she did let me know what the one thing she just wouldn't even consider trying.

"If you think you're going to put your magnificent manhood into my ass, you've got another thing coming", she said with a sly grin.

I wasn't positive, but I didn't put the thought of even trying such a action completely out of my head.

As Sean Connery said, "never say never."

I knew that as we started practicing for "The Big Dance" as the NCAA men's basketball tournament was known as, I had to be all business.

Our first round game just happened to be one of my most complete games in my short career. 34 points, 12 assists, 8 rebounds, and 4 steals. Throw in 2 blocked shots, and the dozen or so NBA scouts in attendance were more than impressed.

Two days later, we won again, with my numbers down, a bit, but several of my teammates picking up their games.

Getting our team to "The Sweet 16" for the first time in nearly a decade put us in ratified air. Even though this next game was against the defending champs, we knew we belonged.

Unfortunately, we came up three points short. As the other team celebrated their victory, our fans recognized just how special our season was, and gave us a long standing ovation.

Sitting at the mandatory post game press conference, several of the press corps asked me if I was turning pro, or returning to the U of W.

"When I know, you guys will be the first to know, so quit asking."

Even though I knew I was going to declare for the draft, I also knew that the higher I went in the draft, the worse the team would be.

For the uninformed, the draft order is based on the finish from the previous season. The worse the finish, the higher the draft position.

I did convince myself that anywhere in the NBA was good enough for me.

Draft day was here. I was one of the future stars invited to the festivities that would be televised, so the entire viewing audience could see who I was. My Husky games weren't viewed in the majority of the country, so to the vast population of basketball fans, I was just statistics read in the local sports section.

I was selected third overall, going to a fairly weak Atlanta basketball team that figured I just might help turn around their sagging record.

Now all I had to do was keep in as good of shape as possible, move to Atlanta, and, oh yes, sign a contract.

On that topic, my business and finance major sister, Brenda, more than filled the bill as my agent.

Meeting the brass of my new team went very well, as did finding a suitable living arrangement. I knew I would be keeping odd hours, so I looked for and found a very nice, modest two bedroom townhouse not all that far from my training facilities.

I did spend some time back home, before training camp started, seeing old friends, plus learning Trina Short was now seeing someone else. That in itself didn't bother me, as neither of us thought our relationship was anything close to permanent.

Getting back to Atlanta a week before training camp started, I took it upon myself to learn where all my necessities were located.

The first two weeks of training camp were a blur. If I thought playing in the NCAA tournament was physically demanding, I quickly learned that was child's play compared to the NBA.

After these two weeks, we were giving some time off. With all the team needing this down time, most of the team headed to a well-known bar/club frequented by pro athletes of all sports.

This group of my new teammates told me I was expected to join them.

"You guys know I'm just nineteen, don't you?"

"Rook, do you think the bouncer gives a shit how old you are? Get your ass in gear, and don't embarrass us."

Just as I was trying to think of an excuse to not join in, two of them looked at me with a "what's the matter, don't you associate with brothers" look.

"That's not the problem, I don't drink."

With that statement, I had eight pairs of eyes staring at me in wonder.

"Do you know how to socialize?"

I just nodded, wondering what was in store for me at this club that I assumed was nothing like any club I'd ever been to.

Wait! I'd never been to any club! With me being nineteen and all.

True to what my team told me, there was no checking of any ID, just a crossways look from this huge man guarding the front door.

The hip-hop music was so loud I could barely hear myself think, as the nine of us were ushered into a corner, just off what was used as a dance floor.

No sooner than we all sat down, a group of six or seven ladies came over to join us. I couldn't believe how they were dressed. I'm positive there wasn't a bra among any of them. Seeing this, I wondered if any of them had panties on. Also, there wasn't one of them who was all white. A true rainbow coalition.

It was very evident that all of these ladies were very well known by my teammates. It was also obvious that I would be a topic of conversation most of the night.

Either I missed the introductions, or no names were given for any of these women.

Two very scantily dressed black gals sat on either side of me. Now I don't have anything against any person of any color, but within two or three minutes, I felt one of their hands land square on my crotch.

"Jesus, Thelma, you should feel this cracker's dick!"

With that, Louise had her hand there, too, with me having a natural response.

Them calling me a cracker just didn't set well with me, but I decided not to voice my displeasure.

For the time being, I let the comment go. I do have to admit that it felt good having two hands inching back to my growing dick.

I was trying to gage the ages of Thelma and Louise, but figured, what the Hell, I didn't care.

With just some light conversation, all of a sudden, both of them, talking to themselves, referred to me as 'cracker' again, so I got up from my seat and started for the door.

"Where you headed, Rookie?" one of my teammates asked.

"Did any of you hear me denigrate either of these ladies? No, you didn't, and you won't. I'm just not going to sit here listening to this shit. Good night."

I turned and headed for the exit.

Just as I got to the door, I felt a female hand on my arm and turned to see one of the ladies reaching out to me.

"I'm sorry for that comment, Cam, it wasn't right for either of us to call you that. Are we forgiven?"

"Yes, I think so, but I'm not in the mood to stay, so good night."

Out I went and found my way back to my place. I just couldn't justify anything that might happen with any of these girls to tolerate being called any such name.

The next day at practice, I was informed by several of the guys who were at that club that I had better learn how most of these "groupies" talk, and there wasn't any rancor behind their words.

"So, you guys are OK with these friends of yours referring to the only white guy in the group as 'cracker', well, I'm not."

"They were only funnin' with you, rookie."

I just shook my head, as our practice started in earnest.

It must have been two weeks later when the same guys asked if I wanted to go back to the same club, only this time they told me it was 'amateur night' where musicians could play along with the professional musicians that would be there.

My guys knew about my saxophone playing, telling me they wanted to hear me play.

I figured, why not? I hadn't really played for anyone for quite a while, and thought it could be a fun night.

Getting to the club, carrying my sax case, we were led to the same area as we were that previous night.

Listening to some of the want to be players trying to keep up with the pros, I figuered I just might be the best of the night.

If you are wondering, the same bevy of groupies were there, but nothing was said about that first meeting.

When I was called to perform, I told the house band what I wanted to play, they all stared at me as if I was a Martian from outer space.

After I warmed up for a few minutes, I broke into the greatest hit from long time studio musician, Boots Randolph, titled Yakety Sax. Along with the raucous music, I danced around to the music, wailing my horn at my best.

Anyone familiar with the raunchy British comedy, Benny Hill, this song was his theme music.

When I finished, the house band asked me if I knew a few other older blues songs, which I did. Breaking into the Dave Brubeck classic, Take Five, the keyboardest and drummer kept right up with me much to the delight of the very appreciative crowd.

When I finished after another old classic, I was well received back at our table.

The general comments I received were something like, "Damn, rookie, you got soul!"

With nothing being said about our first night, it must have been Thelma who sat down next to me.

"Can we just sit here and talk and get to know each other?"

I just nodded my agreement.

I did find out Thelma was her given name. Really. She told me she was a court reporter in the Fulton County Courthouse, and had just turned thirty years of age.

I did have to admit she didn't look her age, and had a body of a teenager. The was very little left to the imagination, with a very sheer blouse and no bra. I could see her fairly substantial boobs, at least a solid C cup with a minimum of sag.

Listening to some more music, some good and some not so much. I do have to admit to allowing myself to be dragged onto the dance floor, for two straight slow songs.

By the end of the first song, my cock was nearing its full length. I could see Thelma's eyes wide open feeling its size.

Without saying a word, she took me by my hand and led me to the back of the club. She opened a narrow door, and in we went to a darkened room, lit only by the light coming through the shades covering the window.

We found our way to a nice comfortable bed, and she pushed me onto my back and started unbuckling my pants. In one swift movement, she lowered both my pants and boxer briefs.

Before saying a word, she took my growing manhood in her very warm mouth and started licking all around the head of my nearly nine inches. My goodness, this bordered on magnificent.

"You know I wouldn't object to returning the favor", I mumbled.

"Wrong time of the month."

With that being said, I reached down and cupped one of her more than generous breasts.

I instantly felt her nipple harden to at least three quarters of an inch in length.

Now I always enjoyed the oral artistry that Trina Short displayed, but she never quite accomplished the total swallowing of my entire manhood, as I was experiencing with Thelma.

My God, could this girl suck cock!

Along with her very warm hand massaging my balls, I didn't think I'd last very long.

I hated it when I was right, but not too long into this devine blow job, I could feel my eruption starting.

I guess she could too, as she took my cock about halfway out of her mouth and softly rubbed on hand up and down my shaft, as I more than filled her mouth with my long overdue offering.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Cameron, how long have you been without?" she panted, still swallowing.

"A while. I guess I was in need of that," I said.

"If you have a condom, I just might allow you in my butt. That being said, you best be very careful."

Grabbing my pants and fishing out my one and only condom, I was ready within just a few minutes of kissing both breasts, as well as her very welcoming mouth.

A small bottle of lube appeared out of her purse, as she got onto all fours, wiggling her nicely rounded behind at me, as I lubed up a finger.

I slowly rubbed one finger around her very cute back door, as well as my covered tool, and very slowly inserted the head of my cock into the desired location.

"God, Cam, easy does it. Fuck me, that feels so good."

In almost half way, I reached underneath to gently massage both nipples, getting them to their full size.

Farther in, her breathing became louder and more rapid.

All the way in, I started to rhythmically pump in and out, as her first orgasm nearly threw me off the bed.

With her being so tight, I knew I wouldn't last as long as I'd hoped, but a good ten or eleven minutes of serious fucking, I filled my condom to near overflowing.

Rolling onto our sides, she magically produced a tissue or two and helped clean me up.

"Can I tell you that you are only the second white man I've been with, and the first that's had my ass."

"I'm honored, and you are my first in two categories. First black girl, and the first of any color brave enough to allow me to do just that."

After resting a few more minutes, we dressed and returned to the club.

None of my teammates or other ladies made any comments about our extended absence.

As my rookie season began, I needed my entire focus to be on my game, and not on getting laid.

I began this season as a highly touted rookie with 'unlimited potential' as some of the print media proclaimed.

I had to remember that this wasn't high school, or even my one very successful college season.

I also learned that in each and every city my team visited there were locker room groupies. Young girls who would hang around the visiting team's locker room after each game with the express intention of fucking some notable pro basketball player.

Even with the NBA being about 80% black, these groupies were every color under the sun.

With me just turning nineteen, and somewhat of a conversation piece, more than a few of these girls threw themselves at me.

My older teammates did talk about this phenomenon all during our training camp, as did the coaching staff. The crux of their conversations? Watch out for both money grabbers, and especially STD's.

The team and the league frowned on the medical staff having to deal with diseases of a sexusl kind.

The first few road games, I was still learning the professional game and was usually too tired for any extra curricular activities. Unlike some of my teammates who would fuck a snake if someone would hold it, I usually had a light meal and headed straight to bed.

My entire family kept in touch with me, keeping me informed of my hometown goings on. They also told me just how many of their neighbors were following my every move.

My sister Brenda told me that her former classmate, Cindy Randolph, had moved back in with her parents along with her two year old twins. A boy, Lewis, and a girl, Hanna. Brenda also told me the grandmother was basically raising the twins, while Cindy worked as an assistant librarian.

As our season was winding down, with us having a better than usual season, missing the playoffs by one game, I had to decide where I was going to spend my off season.

I did surprise myself and the rest of the league finishing second in the Rookie of the Year voting.

I quickly decided to go back to my home town. I was already thinking of buying a home not too far from my parents, as it was a growing suburb east of Seattle, and I needed to start planning my future. After all, basketball wasn't going to last forever, plus the fact that I needed to learn how to invest the large sum of money I was starting to earn.

My last visit with Thelma, she told me that I shouldn't be a stranger when training camp started back up in about three months.

Getting back home, I took a few days of total relaxation taking my mind off basketball, and reconnecting with family and friends.

Our area had a small park with a basketball area that barely qualified as a court.

I went to the parks department and told them I'd pay for some long overdue improvements. I also added a shorter basket so little kids could play, too.

It must have been a week or so, with me just shooting around the old court, while the new one was being built, that I seemed to be attracting a crowd of kids, from middle school to high school age.

One afternoon there was an older lady with two little kids. When she told me her name was Lucy Randolph, I figured she was Cindy's mother, and these two cute kids were her grandchildren.

Both kids were too young to know of my fame, but loved just bouncing a ball and throwing it up at a small basket. I quickly learned that I loved this sort of interaction with children.

I spent most of my off time relaxing, but kept in very good shape on the court, and watching my diet.

The week before training camp started, I was doing some more serious exercising at this park, when Lucy and her grandchildren appeared, with a young lady I assumed was the kids mother.

"Cameron, this is my daughter, Cindy, and she wants to thank you for being so nice to her kids."

"I went to school with Andy and Brenda Walker, who I'm guessing are your family, correct?"

"Yep, and I just love helping your kids whenever I can."

Cindy and I just sat watching her kids running around like nearly three year olds do, and talked about growing up in this beautiful neighborhood.

What I saw was a smallish girl a few years older than me, about five foot three and a little, on the thin side, with a very cute smile, but on the quiet side. I rememered some of the talk growing up that she had some issues, that I guessed were either overblown, or under control, as she and I talked for nearly a half hour.

As she was ready to take her very tired twins home, she thanked me again for playing with her kids.

As I headed back home, I realized there had never been any mention of a father in the picture. None of my business.

Before going back to Atlanta for my training camp, I started rethinking about buying a home. I couldn't keep living with my parents. This was put at the top of my to do list for the next off season.

I do have to admit my second training camp was a bit easier, but I already felt the pressure of being runner-up in the ROY category, and so much was expected of me.

In case any of you were wondering, I did hook up with Thelma, but learned from her that she did have a fairly steady boy friend. Some highly successful lawyer she met in her capacity as a court reporter.

I didn't ever think that relationship was nothing more than an exraordinary release of sexual tension, and nothing more.

To be perfectly honest, there were far too many options thrown my way, that I had to rethink my social life, and remember that basketball was my number one concern. I was definitely not celebate, but I still remember our team doctors warning us about STD's. I learned to control myself, and to be very selective in any sexual activities.

The seasons seemed to pass by quickly, with me becoming a true super star. In that vein, I was compensated appropriately. I honestly couldn't believe how much money I was earning.

Aside from a very large salary, I signed deals to endorse everything from shoes to sunglasses. If some company wanted to pay me for wearing some article of clothing, who was I to turn down large sums of money?

I quickly learned how to invest my earnings, and how to diversify my holdings.

I remember my grandpa telling me about one of the owners of an NFL team in the 1960's saying something like, "money is like manure, if you leave it in a pile, it stinks, but if you spread it around, it works wonders"

A little bit of wisdom I never forgot. I quickly was becoming a very rich young man. Since I was keenly aware of the fact my sport having a finite shelf life, I knew I was planning for the long haul.

Each off season, along with taking some classes to further my love for psychology, I also purchased a fairly large home not too far from my parents.

I wanted quite a few upgrades, which were done while the basketball season was in progress. My parents were in charge of making sure the things I'd ordered were done to my specifications.

I was always keeping track of Cindy Randolph and her kids, and how they were doing.

Mom would give me recaps every few weeks, and would always slip in the comment, "you do know, Cameron, she's not seeing anyone."

My mother would always call me by my full name if she wanted to make a point.

"Mom, I'm aware of that, but don't you think she needs a solid footing for herself and her kids, before thinking along those lines?"

"I guess you're right. But she's such a sweet kid."

Mothers, you just have to put up with their good intentions.

With my fifth season coming to an end, and our team in a good playoff position, I was very well established as a perennial all-star, and a highly sought-after bachelor.

I was still very selective in my bedroom partners, and did limit my activities on that subject.

While on the road, I was even more careful, as I was very aware of some of the goings-on around our league. I knew of several very well-known stars having fuck buddies in every city we played in. That just wasn't me.

I do have to interject that each of the past two off seasons, I did become a little more attracted to Cindy Randolph. To the point of taking her out to dinner a few times. Both with her kids, and by ourselves.

One of the first times we went out together, by ourselves, as we were finishing dinner she very quietly told me even though she really cared for me, she just couldn't do anything more than a goodnight kiss or two.

Walking her to the door of her parent's house, I bent down to her outstretched arms, and gave her as soft a kiss as I could manage.

Holding her very close to my body, I'm positive she could feel my reaction to that kiss. With my hand under her chin, I gave her what can only be described as a toe curling kiss, with a bit of tongue included.

Hearing her breathing quickening, I just held her close to me, with her head resting on my chest.

"Cam, please don't think bad of me, but I'm just not positive on how to proceed. I want you to know I've been seeing a therapist for nearly two years and she has told me how to be honest about my feelings for you."

When she stopped I just continued to hold her, while allowing her time for any other comments.

"I've got to honest with you, as I do have some deep feelings for you, along with some serious issues with some of the things I read about some basketball players."

"I want you to know, Cindy, I'm not like some of those guys, but I'll admit to not exactly being a choir boy."

Finally, sitting down on the top step of the porch, she fit comfortably under the arm I placed around her small compact body.

"I want you to know my parents have my best interests at heart, and would be very upset if you turned out to be one of those 'cock hounds' as my dad refers to some of your teammates."

"Reassure your dad, if we do have something to build on, and I'm hoping we do, I'd be as faithful as any human being could be."

We finally stood up, with me giving her one more very deep kiss, moving on hand from her nicely round behind and placing it one her very soft breast. Feeling her small but very hard nipple respond, unencumbered by any bra, I heard her whisper, "not much to write home about"

"More than enough for me, as you can tell."

As my very sizable bulge was pressing into her, I noticed her eyes wide open, and her smile from ear to ear.

"Let's take that one step at a time, and just so you know, with the different medications I take, most birth control doesn't agree with them."

"If we truly want to go to the next level, we'll figure something out."

Another very slow, sensual kiss, and I was off. I knew we were getting close to moving onto the next level.

In the classes I was taking I read about the use of service dogs to help with anxiety attacks, and other problems coping with life.

I sat down with Cindy and her parents to discuss this very topic.

Henry, her father, told me that such an animal was out of their financial ability.

"I wasn't asking you to purchase one, because even if we only remain good friends, I'd want to give Cindy that possibility of assistance."

"Let's just see what might be available, OK?"

I agreed with all three of them and told them I'd so some checking, if it was OK with them. They all agreed.

As we were finishing this serious talk, Lewis and Hanna came running into the living room, showing me some of their school projects.

I couldn't believe how attached to these two nearly eight year olds I'd become.

As promised, I did some preliminary work on service dogs, and found out how to go about purchasing and training one, that just might be of great assistance to Cindy and the rest of her family.

I started playing some basketball with them, but Lewis decided he'd rather kick a ball than dribble it, so he started playing youth soccer. Hanna, on the other hand, was pretty good at dribbling a ball. I never forced sports of any kind on them, I just wanted them to get some extra exercise.

Going back to Atlanta to start training camp leading to that fateful game near the start of my sixth season, I was now the marquee player on our team. I was also being compensated appropriately.

The pre-season games were the usual, with most of us starters played sparingly, letting the newcomers get used to our style of play.

Nothing about those games foretold of any pending disaster.

Our second game of the season happened to be in Portland, just a hundred and fifty mile drive down Interstate 5 from my home town.

And since it was a Sunday afternoon game, my parents brought the entire Randolph family to the game.

Borh my sister, and her family, plus my brother and his family were all together as a group of fifteen rooting for me and the visiting team.

I was excited to have them watch me play, but felt terrible in the tenth minute of the game, when my knee just completely crumpled.

With the crowd of nearly twenty-two thousand fans, silently watching the medical staff tending to my prone body, all I could think of was, will I ever play again.

It must have been two or three hours later, I realized I was in a hospital room, surrounded by several medical people, as well as four of my teammates, plus two of our team's coaches.

"I guess I'm done for the season, aren't I?" I croaked.

The head doctor told me to just rest, and one of my coaches told me not to worry about anything and to get some rest.

Who should I see waiting to enter my room? My parents and Cindy.

As soon as I saw them, my tears started like a waterfall.

It would have been much worse if it weren't for the pain meds the doctors had given me.

After my parents gave me a very reassuring hug, Cindy just sat next to my bed and softly took hold of my hand.

"I hope you know that if your recovery is up in our area, I'm volunteering to be your inspiration to rehabbing that knee."

I just gently squeezed her hand while wiping away my tears.

My entire medical team took the next three days discussing what my treatment should entail.

I was very fortunate to have the chief orthopedic surgeon for the Seattle Seahawks take an interest in my case.

My transportation to Seattle was arranged to take place in the next few days, allowing the swelling in my knee to subside enough for the corrective surgery to take place.

Getting settled at the University of Washington hospital, and undergoing all the pre surgery testing, I was told that my extremely good physical condition was going to be a huge plus recovering from this sort of very complicated procedure.

Two more days, and my surgery was here. I had resigned myself to take everything in stride, and put my trust in the very experienced doctors and nurses tending to me.

Waking up in the recovery room, I looked down seeing my entire left leg wrapped like a mummy.

My body was numb. No better way to describe it. My throat was dry, and I was very aware that I needed something to drink, as my throat felt like the Sonoran Desert.

At the same time I found the call button, one of the recovery room nurses appeared carrying a cup of ice chips.

Not two minutes later, who should appear at my door? My mom, of course, but Cindy Randolph, smiling like it was Christmas morning.

"Good afternoon, Cam, I can't tell you how glad we all are, seeing you awake."

Since I couldn't really talk, I just smiled, and kept sucking on more ice chips, helping me to swallow, without it feeling like razor blades in my throat.

A nurse came back in, with a doctor, who told me not to let any pain get so bad and to make sure to hit my automatic medication button as needed.

I was also told that this machine had a timer built in making it virtually impossible to over dose.

I must have dozed off and on for the next few hours when I realized how hungry I was.

When a nurse brought me a cup of Jell-O, I thought it tasted like Prime Rib.

I asked for some food that just might be a bit more substantial, but I was told I had a day or two more to wait.

Oh, great, I thought, I was already on the very thin side, now I was going to be starved.

By the third morning, I was starting my arduous journey to return to the walking world. At first, I was very tentative, using a walker, of course, after the hospital found one that could handle someone my height.

The days started passing by quickly, as my rehab started to improve my entire outlook.

Not only was I finally able to eat solid food, I was also able to maneuver around the hallways at a reasonable clip.

All this, under the watchful eyes of my family, plus the added companionship of Cindy Randolph, who was becoming more than just a friend.

Each afternoon when she would leave we would have a few minutes of some fairly serious kissing. This also included my very large hands gripping her nicely round ass cheeks.

Holding her body close to mine, her eyes would be wide open, feeling the reaction of my substantial manhood.

"Cam, I don't think that is part of your physical therapy routine," she'd whisper, with a huge grin.

"I also want you to know that each day I'm here helping you recover, I'm having less and less episodes."

As I was being readied for release to a rehab facility, I was getting used to my walker, and my regimen of exercises.

Having my girlfriend visiting almost every day helped more than I could have imagined. Yes, I considered Cindy to be my girlfriend.

Never could I have considered a young lady with emotional issues to be such a close friend. With her being almost five years older than me didn't bother me in the least. Her eight year old twins were just the cherry on top of a delicious bowl of ice cream.

When I started walking without my walker, I knew I was over the worst of this recovery period.

I was using a cane if I was walking any great distance. I also started going to the playground in decent weather, and to a local small club with a half court, so I could see if I remembered how to shoot baskets.

The second or third night back in my newly renovated house, I asked Cindy if she wanted to spend the night, even telling her she could use one of the three spare bedrooms.

"I want you to know, Cam, that I'm not very experienced in things of 'that' sort, and some of my medications lower my desire to do, um, you know."

"Like I said, you can use one of the other bedrooms, if you'd feel more comfortable."

It must have been about two in the morning, with Cindy in one of the spare rooms, when I heard my door opening, and sensed someone in my room.

Without turning over, I felt her small body get into my bed and move right up against my back.

I figured I'd wait to see what might take place.

I felt her left hand reach over my body and touch my already growing bulge.

She very softly moved her hand down the front of my boxer briefs, causing exactly the response you might imagine.

Pushing the undies down and over my growing manhood, my solid, throbbing cock now free with her small hand moving up and down my nearly nine inches of meat.

Since it had been a while, I started breathing a bit faster, and Cindy's next action took me quite by surprise.

Just before I was ready to shoot my load, she leaned over and took about three inches into her very warm mouth and started rubbing even faster.

It didn't take too long for me to whisper that I was going to explode, when she took me out of her mouth and held a handful of tissues over my now gushing manhood.

My God, I needed that, I thought to myself.

After a little cleanup, we just cuddled in bed, with Cindy being very careful of my still recovering knee.

"Do you think we just might have something to build on, Cindy?" I asked.

"I need you to know a bit more about what you have to be willing to deal with."

"Please stop. I've heard things for years, and have taken them with a grain of salt. I need you to know that if we do move forward, I'll never abandon you. No matter what!"

With those words, she buried her head in my shoulder, softly sobbing.

With my rehab moving ahead, we did talk about her and her kids moving in with me, in my completed house. I definitely had enough room, and both kids got along with me far better than I could have ever imagined.

As the summer was approaching, I realized that I wasn't going to any training camp. Now, or anytime in the future.

I was very well protected financially, so that wasn't a worry, as I'd invested very wisely.

One summer afternoon, I was headed to the new outdoor park to shoot some baskets with Cindy's kids.

As I approached, I heard Lewis asking these two large high school boys to give him back his ball.

As I neared them, he ran over to me telling me these two boys took his basketball.

"Boys, don't you think you're both a bit big to be picking on this eight year old?"

These boys were both known to me as two of the Mount Si basketball team.

Brothers, Tim and Joe Andrews. Both on the tall but chunky side, going into their senior and sophomore seasons, respectively.

"I'll ask one more time, boys, give Lewis back his ball!"

"We meant no harm, Cam, but we were just playing around. Besides, our parents told us their mom is a bit crazy."

"So, you think rumors like that give you both the right to torment this nice kid?"

"Sorry," they both mumbled, giving my pal his ball.

After we shot a few baskets, we sat and talked about what had taken place.

Going back to my house, we all talked about this. When we finished, I quietly asked Cindy if she and her kids would move in with me.

Talking for around two hours, we did decide to make this move.

Getting all three of them settled just felt right. To me, I'd never experienced anything like this feeling.

It also helped getting a service dog to help with Cindy's anxiety attacks.

As a family, we all went to the agency that supplied these animals, and after seeing several, Cindy and her kids picked out a black lab that had completed his first two phases of training. We just had to wait another two weeks, and he'd come to live with us.

Now all we had to do was find a suitable name.

After bantering a few names back and forth, Hanna says we should call him Snowball. After all, he was jet black, with this little white tuft of fur in the middle of his forehead. Snowball, it was decided.

Living together proved to be very beneficial for all four of us. Taking the burden off Henry and Lucy Randolph completed the easing of a lot of issues.

Cindy was doing very well, both with her job and finding it within herself to finally realize she was a great mother, and quickly becoming my best friend.

With Snowball able to detect a pending anxiety attact, and in reaction, he would rub right up against one of her legs, her outlook on life was vastly improved.

After several weeks of sleeping in the same bed, just manually or orally stimulating each other, one night, with her kids at my parents house, we were holding onto each other, as was the norm.

Silently, I started kissing my way down her very compact body. Each of her tiny, rock hard nipples, and over her very taut tummy.

Hearing her softly moaning, convinced me it was time to try what we had only talked about during our relationship.

Moving her onto on side, and getting behind her, I lifted one leg and slowly rubbed my rock hard tool up and down her soaking wet slit.

With her breathing starting to quicken, I entered her sacred place just about three inches deep. In and out, in and out, all the while caressing one of her very sensitive nipples.

With just a little wiggle of her cute behind, my cock went another few inches deeper.

I couldn't believe how wet she was, as her first orgasm hit. Holding her right in front of me. I carefully pushed the remaining inches of my manhood in as deep as it would go.

My goodness, she was tight.

Holding the other nipple between my thumb and forefinger, her second orgasm, even bigger than the first hit like a ton of bricks.

"Keep going, Cam, if you know what's good for you," she breathed.

Who was I to disobey?

I started thrusting a bit faster, while nibbling at her neck and reaching around to find her throbbing clit.

Just as I felt my explosion nearing, I heard her throaty moan, "don't pull out."

Cumming like there was no tomorrow, we just laid there, with me glued to her back. I was still semi-hard, so I slowly started in and out some more.

"Oh, fuck, Cam, that feels so good, but go slower."

Again, who was I to disobey?

Laying in each others arms after some well needed clean-up, I just lightly kissed her forehead and both of her closed eyelids.

"Does it matter that I didn't use a condom?"

"Not really, because ever since I've been on this group of medicines my periods have been rather sporadic. Besides, I might be convinced to maybe have another baby."

"Really? I don't want to pressure you in any way."

"No pressure, but it might entail a ring somewhere down the line," said with a huge grin.

"I think that is a distinct possibility."

For the next few days both of us did a lot of grinning. We also did a lot of fucking. And sucking. And every combination of both items.

As the next school year started, the high school athletic director called me saying the basketball coach had moved to eastern Washington, and would I consider coaching for at least one season.

Knowing my playing career was most likely over, and not really in need of money, I gave it some serious thought.

Could I help turn around a program that hadn't had much success, in the years after I left for college and the NBA?

I guess I need to see what I'm able to do, since I've never been one to just sit and do nothing.

Three weeks into the school year, there was a meeting scheduled for parents and potential players.

The school principal started this meeting by telling all in attendance that the coach from the previous season had left, then introduced me as the interim coach.

I began by telling everyone that this was new territory for me, and they should be patient.

I started talking with some of the parents, introducing myself, and learning these people's names.

I met John and Catherine Andrews. In introducing myself, I asked which one of them was the Psychologist or Psychiatrist.

"Neither of us are, why do you ask?"

"Oh, its just something your boys told me when I convinced them to quit picking on the eight year old boy who is becoming my stepson for now, until my adoption petition for him and his sister goes through proper channels. You see their 'crazy' mother is my fiance."

You could have heard a pin drop.

Just then, their sons walked into the meeting room, and when they saw their parents talking to me, they knew they wanted to be anywhere else but in this room.

Right then I knew our first few practices would be very tense, to be sure. Could I overlook these two kids and their lack of maturity, plus their parent's lack of class? Both questions came under the to be determined category.

As I started moving away from these classless clowns, my fiance and Snowball came walking up to me.

Giving me a light kiss on my cheek, she looked at Mr. and Mrs. Andrews saying, "be careful, my bi-polar disorder is contagious and I wouldn't want anybody telling their children you're crazy."

With that, we both smiled and walked awsy holding hands. At least the rest of the parents were civil, with some actually happy to talk with me.

I just couldn't get over the changes in my fiance. Yes, we set a date for our wedding. Both sets of parents were very excited. With Cindy being an only child, my brother and sister took up the slack of excited siblings.

I spent the first few weeks of the school year getting some of my game plans in order, but knowing I had to see what my team would look like, before implementing any sort of offensive and defensive systems.

I figured with the two Andrews brothers I at least had some decent size. Now all I had to do is get them in shape to run a high octane offense. One can dream, can't one?

Our first practice was going to be tomorrow, so when both Andrews brothers appeared at my office door, I wasn't surprised.

"Coach, we wanted to tell you our parents wanted to enroll us at Eastside Catholic, and play basketball there."

For the uninformed, Eastside Catholic is a private high school that can 'recruit' from all over the state, and has very successful sports teams.

"Thank you for letting me know, and I wish you success," I told them honestly.

"But we both told them we weren't transferring and miss all our friends," Tim told me.

"Plus, we'd be lowest on the totem pole," Joe added.

"You guys have to do what's best for you. And thank you for giving me a chance."

Staring with about thirty-five young men, I walked to the center of the basketball court, and greated all the potential players for our varsity and junior varsity teams.

"For those of you who don't know me, I'm Cameron Walker, and for at least this year, I'm going to be the head coach. Both coach Thomas and coach Brooks will help me, as well as coaching the JV team."

"Also, my office door will be open for any and all questions. Remember, your schoolwork is even more important than your game on this court. No grades means no basketball. Understand?"

Yes, coach, was voiced by everyone there.

We broke these young men into groups, with me telling them that nobody was guaranteed a starting position, no matter where they played previously.

I did let everyone know that if we were invited to any tournaments around Thanksgiving, that I wouldn't be coaching them, due to my wedding on the Saturday after the Holiday.

Yes, we set a date, and knew we would have just a small wedding, without any planned honeymoon. That would be something we'd consider for the summertime.

On the Russian Roulette we were playing not using birth control? Just about eight weeks after our first unprotected sex, Cindy barely made it to our bathroom puking up last night's dinner.

"Are you OK?" I blurted out, holding her in my arms.

"Yes, and no. Yes, I'm feeling better, and no, you knocked me up! I hope you're prowd of yourself."

At first I thought she was pissed, before I saw her mile wide grin, and the tears of joy in her very sexy eyes.

Hugging her as gently as I knew how, I carried her back to our bed.

"I think we need to talk with the twins, and I do need an appointment to verify what I already know."

With this being a Sunday morning, we normally cooked a nice breakfast. I should say, Cindy cooked a nice breakfast, as I was severely challenged in the kitchen.

As the twins tumbled out of their beds, and came into the kitchen area, the first question, as always was, "what's for breakfast?"

"OK, kids how would you like to go to the Sunday Brunch at the casino?"

Without even telling them it was a special occasion, they were thrilled, as they knew they were old enough to make their own choices at this huge buffet.

Seeing us both grinning like the Cheshire Cat, it was Hanna who finally asked if there was something special going on.

"OK, kids, how would you both like a little brother or sister?"

Lewis just stood there looking stunned, but Hanna run up to her mom and gave her a big hug.

"Do we get to choose, brother or sister?" she asked in all seriousness.

"No, sweetie, that's already been determined, and we have to wait another few weeks before we can learn which one we're having."

That was all she needed, as she and her brother were already talking about what they wanted for breakfast.

I was never doing things like this to impress anyone, but because the family interaction was so needed for Cindy's mental well being. It was also a huge boost having Snowball always ready to head off any potential problems.

Our team practices proved to me just how far we needed to improve to be competitive in our very strong league.

On the Andrews brother front, at our first game, their parents were there, but wouldn't even acknowledge my presence on our bench. I couldn't be bothered, because my job was coaching, not coddling shit head parents.

We actually won our first game, even considering it was against a far smaller school. In my book, any win is great.

In case you forgot, we did find out we were going to be parents in six and a half months, give or take. And we did not want to know the sex. Yet.

Our small wedding with just our families plus a few very close friends, couldn't have gone better. Yes, Cindy was terrified a day or two beforehand, but Snowball helped her get over her nerves. So much so, he walked down the aisle right behind Cindy and her dad.

Knowing we had more than a few months before our child was born, we set up our fourth bedroom as a nursery. We had the idea we would find out the sex with enough time to paint the nursery the appropriate color.

I found it a bit difficult coaching my high school team, while awaiting the birth of our child. On that front, we did find out that we were having a daughter. We got our nursery decorated appropriately, and started thinking about a name.

On the hardwoods, my rag tag team was having one of its best seasons since I helped them to some level of success.

We weren't setting the world on fire, but we were competitive. At each and every practice, I'd preach the fundamentals of playing as a team. If you played within yourselves, you'd have some successes. And we did.

We actually finished in third place in our league, making it to the playoffs. There, we stunned the entire conference, making our first trip to the state tournament in six years.

Our rooting section was quite unique. Aside from the student section, there was a group of devoted parents, plus my pregnant wife, two older kids, and the ever present Snowball.

In case you missed it, I did adopt Lewis and Hanna.

The state tournament proved to be a turning point in the school's program. After winning in the opening round, we lost in the second round, then won two consecutive games, taking fourth place.

In the bedroom activity department, I knew that sex was secondary to my wife's health and saftey. I never complained once.

Just a few weeks after our basketball season ended, Cindy went into labor, about a full month early.

Getting her to the hospital in record time, and after an agonizing ninety minutes of very hard work, Lisa Marie Walker made her presence known to the delivery room. All four pounds and ten ounces of beauty. All ten tiny fingers, and equally tiny toes, and just a very slight hint of reddish blond hair, that my mother said looked just like my sister's did when she was born.

In case anyone wonders where that name came from, Cindy's father told us that his grandfather, Homer Louis 'Boots' Randolph, played in the session band backing up many famous recording artists, including Elvis Pressly. Hence, Lisa Marie.

Despite being early, everything seemed to be in working order. Especially her lungs. She let us all know that she was going to be the new queen in the Walker household.

I cannot convey the feeling of holding your child for the first time. This tiny, helpless being that would control my every emotion for the next eighteen years, give or take.

We knew with how early she arrived that she wasn't coming home with us for a week, maybe two. All we could do is put our faith in the great team at Children's Hospital of Seattle, one of this countries best.

Each day Cindy Snowball and I would go the the NICU, gown up, and hold our little treasure. Each day we could see just how much she was changing right before our eyes.

Before anyone questions the fact that Snowball joined us, we already secured permission with the hospital board to allow this to happen.

At the two week mark, with Lisa Marie now weighing in at a robust six and a half pounds, we got to bring her home. She was alert, taking in her surroundings, and developing a personality all her own.

The twins couldn't stop gushing to their friends about the new addition to our family.

Over the summer, I kept my conditioning routine building up the strength in my reconstructed left knee. I was finally able to run a bit without any pain. I did, however, use a lot of ice on it to make sure there wasn't any swelling.

I was able to shoot my jump shot, but not with the vertical lift as I had during my career. Enough though to bring a smile to my face.

The other things that brought smiles to my face was our wonderful daughter, plus the return of our bedroom gymnastics. The latter being done with the appropriate birth control.

Cindy and I talked all summer about the chance of having any more children.

"Do you want to try for a son?" she asked after a great night of fucking.

"I already have a great son, plus two great daughters."

Yes I adopted the twins since they had been calling me dad for quite a while.

Towards the end of the summer I got a phone call from a local basketball legend. He asked me if I wanted to participate in his annual charity event to help at risk kids in Greater Seattle. He had many superstars each year, plus many Seattle area heroes.

This legend attended Rainier Beach high school in Seattle, the University of Michigan for one year, then played in the NBA for twenty-one seasons. He won many awards, and holds several records.

He told me some of the stars who would be playing, plus a couple of young coaches in our area who were very good players in their own right.

There were two former players coaching one of the Seattle high schools, both retired because of injuries. I knew of them both, plus the irony of the two of them playing for Portland when injured, plus the fact my injury occurred in Portland.

I had to give this invitation some thought and discussed it at length with my wife.

"You know Cam, the decision is yours to make, but just remember the amount of hard work it has taken you to get where you are now."

"Yes, I'm very aware, but I'm thinking I might give it a try, knowing what my limitations are. I just don't want to miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity."

In the packed gymnasium at Seattle Pacific University, I took the court along with mire than a few of the stars I'd played against in my abriviated career.

Aside from being a fundraiser for at risk kids, this was a showcase of the tremendous amount of talent that Jamal Crawford could assemble. Even at forty-five years of age, he did play a few minutes to show us youngsters the shooting ability that allowed him to score over nineteen thousand points during his illustrious career.

It also allowed me the opportunity to meet these two coaches from West Seattle high school. Ethan Dunlap and Thomas Sanders, and I talked at length about having our two schools play each other in our non-conference games. We agreed to having our athletic directors schedule such games.

It also gave me the opportunity to see if any of my high flying antics from my playing days could still be done.

I did have one occasion to drive the baseline, rise above the rim a slam home a monster reverse slam dunk, that brought the entire house to its feet in appreciation.

It also was a joy to meet both of these coaches families. Both of their wives and their large group of kids. Both my older kids had no difficulty with the biracial kids in both families. Color of one's skin didn't bother them in the least. This statement aimed at The Three Stooges.

My wife also benefitted from meeting two other wives of former players, too. All three wives sat talking as if they had been friends for years. Here was a college professor, a physical therapist and a young lady struggling with bipolar disorder, along with being a library aide at the city library, talking as equals. After all, the one common thread? They each had a husband who played professional basketball.

With the school year starting up again, I was eagerly waiting for the basketball season to start. I knew I had a good group of returning prayers, plus a Junior Varsity group with one year of experience in my system.

On the home front, I couldn't have been more proud of how well my wife was doing, both in being a nearly perfect wife and the absolutely perfect mother.

It helped that Lisa Marie was advancing better than any of us could have imagined.

Growing faster than any of us could have imagined. Having the best big brother and sister helped a great deal, too.

I had long since resigned myself to the fact I wasn't going to play in the NBA ever again, and I was OK with that. Or so I told myself. I was more than financially comfortable, and happy with my decision to coach my former high school team.

I was also continuing to take classes aimed at getting my degree in Psychology.

After long hours of talking, Cindy made me promise not to get a vasectomy. Just in case.

We discussed several options, and did make the decision to have her get her tubes tied. It was the easiest option to achieve, and alleviated the worry of any more children.

With our twins doing well in school, plus Lisa growing by leaps and bounds, we couldn't have been happier.

Nearly two years after my career ended, my former team invited me back for their home opener.

I accepted, of course, and brought my family with me.

The night before this special occasion, we had a very nice gathering of several of my former teammates.

Among the team employees, I met the new legal counsel for the team. Plus his new wife. I was stunned to see his wife was Thelma, my old fuck buddy. Before you ask, she whispered to me that our history was just that, history.

Thelma did take my wife aside and told her she was one lucky girl. She said this in the best way possible.

In case any of you are curious, I told Cindy all about my 'friend with benefits' so there was no awkwardness.

After our dinner, back at our Airbnb, we sat in our bed, just cuddling.

"Do you think I'd look good with boobs like Thelma has?"

"Babe, your back would be constantly aching, holding them up."

Laughing, she gave me a light punch in my arm, telling me she was kidding.

Just laying in bed with my wife in my arms I started thinking about how great my life was going.

Yes, my basketball career was cut short by a freak injury.

Yes, I truthfully had no money worries, due to the structuring of my contract.

Yes, I found the most unlikely woman who loved me for being me, and not the money I'd earned putting a nice round ball into a slightly larger hoop.

A woman who brought the nicest children I ever could have hoped for, plus adding a daughter who literally stole my heart within minutes of being born.

I thought about the joy of being able to pass on my athletic abilities to a group of young men, willing to let this skinny kid from North Bend, Washington mold them into adults, first, and basketball players second.

Did Cindy and I have the perfect marriage? Not really, but very, very close.

We did have disagreements, that were settled with communication.

Never did we let those disagreements fester into arguments.

We were in nearly 100% agreement on how our three kids would be raised.

Even though they never lacked for anything, we never over did anything when it came to birthdays or holidays.

If any of them asked for something outlandish, due to the affluence in our neighborhood, we put a quick halt to some of those ideas.

Each and every event that Cindy would have was dealt with as a family. All three kids were made aware of their mother's condition. They all knew mom dealt with certain things in her own way, and knew to support her completely.

As I was closing in on my degree in Psychology, I already knew what I wanted to do. I had discussed this with both my principal and the district superintendent.

Even before gettiing the required master's degree, I was told I'd be the high school's only full-time counselor.

One late afternoon, as I walked into our house knowing Cindy was off at noon, I saw her sitting on our front porch looking none too happy.

"What's up sweetie?" I asked after giving her a nice kiss.

"Well, something happened at work today, that nearly set me off."

Right away, my blood pressure started rising.

"Tell me what happened," I asked trying to maintain my calm.

"This jerk came into the library, and after looking around, make a rather crude suggestion, about me sucking him off!"

"Do you know who he is?"

"Before you get too hot under the collar, two of your basketball kids heard the comment along with Snowball growling, told that ass if he valued his health, he best make himself scarce. He took off like he was shot out of a cannon."

"Are you OK?"

Just nodding and hugging me, we sat on our front porch swing just holding each other.

"Just so you know, it was those Andrews boys who came to my rescue."

I thought to myself that they had matured right before my eyes. Did my influence cause this? Don't know. But if I had anything to with their actions, I'll chalk it up to them growing up.

I had to remember to give Snowy an extra treat tonight.

Would this signal a major advancement on her mental state, too? Not sure, but it definitely looked good.

Would word spread through our little town who not to mess with? I certainly hoped so.

Both of us settled into a rather predictable lifestyle, one where a young basketball superstar who had to retire early, found the most unlikely wife. Where this oddest of odd couples not only succeeded, but thrived, so much so, their successful marriage was chronicled by several media outlets.

As our kids grew and prospered, our love knew no bounds. As our older two grew into young adults, we had to find quieter ways in our bedroom to avoid explanations that we weren't ready to give.