P.J. Watson lay in bed in his apartment, replaying the final few seconds in his head. Whitewater Valley College was on the brink of playing for the school's fourth straight national championship. The team just needed to run out the last four seconds of the semifinal game, and they would be playing for not only the championship trophy, but the distinction of being the first college in their division to win four titles in a row.
All the WVC Blue Jays had to do was run out the clock. The game had been close throughout, but the Washington Tech Falcons were now down by two. The inbounds pass went to P.J., the team's most reliable player and clutch free throw shooter. Only, when the pass reached its intended destination, P.J. wasn't there. It was some condensation, or sweat, or just a freak wet spot, but P.J.'s Nike's found it. He slipped to the hardwood floor, and the pass sailed out of bounds.
P.J. was crushed. He blamed himself, even when Washington Tech banked in a miracle three-pointer at the buzzer to win the game. He felt it he had just caught the pass, even just tipped it and kept it in-bounds, that WVC would have won. But, it was not meant to be.
For a week, P.J. had been sulking about the loss. He went to class, but was going through the motions. No one on campus thought the outcome of the game was anything other than bad luck. But, P.J. still felt responsible, and shied away from conversation.
That included conversation with his sister. She was a freshman on the WVC women's basketball team. The women's team did not have the winning tradition of the men's team, but they were a team on the rise. They had their best season in school history, and with a solid core of freshmen and sophomores, they would be a force the next couple of years. Central to their rise was Carrie Watson. She was a cinch to win freshman of the year in their conference, and would be a favorite pick for player of the year next season.
Carrie and P.J. had many grudge matches in the driveway growing up. P.J. was a quick, ball-handling guard, while Carrie was a sharpshooting forward. P.J. and Carrie were both six feet tall, and sandy blonde, but that is where their similarities ended. P.J. was undersized, a skin-and bones type who would easily be lost in a crowd of people. But, he was quicker and faster than anyone he ever played against. Carrie was taller than almost every other girl, and she had a classic athletic build, with broad shoulders and was toned and muscular. She could shoot a basketball over any defender, and no one would beat her for a rebound. They were the perfect foils for each other, constantly pushing one another to get better.
Now, here they were at opposite ends of their basketball lives. P.J. had most likely played his last competitive game, while Carrie was starting down her road to stardom.
The phone rang in P.J.'s apartment, he reluctantly answered. It was Brent Timmons, the senior captain of the team. His message to P.J. was short and to the point. "It's time."
P.J. hung up. He had been dreading this night, but tradition stated that when the captain called at the end of the season, you had to respond. P.J. grabbed his bag and met the other sophomores, juniors, and seniors outside the freshmen dorm. They rounded up the freshmen basketball players, and brought them to Blue Jay Fieldhouse for one last game of the season. As they were walking to the Fieldhouse, he saw the women's players rounding up the freshmen on their squad, and of course saw his sister.
Carrie didn't know what was going on. One second she was studying for Chemistry in her room, the next her teammates were demanding she drop everything and come to the Fieldhouse. When she asked why, she was told it was for the sake of tradition. Carrie was confused, as her brother had talked to her about Whitewater Valley's traditions and what was expected of her as an athlete, and this never came up. Her teammates kept hounding her, making it impossible to do homework anyway, so she relented and joined them on their walk to the Fieldhouse.
Once inside, the players went to their locker rooms and put on their practice gear, and met at the center of the court in the one hundred and ten year old building. Normally, when these players were on the court there would be five thousand screaming fans, or at least one screaming coach. But, tonight, there was silence as the men lined up shoulder-to-shoulder facing the women, who were also filed in the same manner.
Brent, as men's captain, and Taylor Justice, as his women's counterpart stepped forward. Brent stated that as tradition, the men pick first for having the better season's record. He picked a player from the men's team. Taylor picked next, and picked P.J. Brent immediately picked Carrie. The picking went on, alternating between Taylor and Brent until all the players were picked.
Carrie was smiling. She thought it would be fun to play a co-ed game, and she was even more excited to play against her brother again. But, P.J. was not so excited. He was nervous during the whole selection process, as a knot in his stomach grew.
All the players were warming up, and P.J. couldn't concentrate on basketball. His shot was off, and he could barely dribble he was so nervous. Taylor came up to him and said, "You better play to win tonight, Watson. Don't be nervous. It's just another game."
But it wasn't.
Brent blew a whistle, and immediately, the sophomores, juniors, and seniors started to undress. Jerseys, shorts, sports bras, jocks were all being thrown aside. Brent yelled at the freshmen, "What are you waiting for?" Most got the hint and started to strip down.
Carrie didn't know what to make of it. She was a pretty girl for sure, with piercing blue eyes and toned, muscular legs. But, she had never been much of a sexual creature. She didn't date much, and was more focused on basketball and school work. She looked at her brother, naked except for socks and hi-top shoes, almost pleading with him, hoping it was a dream. He nodded to her, as if to say, "Do it."
This was Whitewater Valley's secret game. No one other than the basketball players themselves knew it existed, and no one talked about it outside of this gym on this night. No one knows how far back the tradition went, but every year after the men's and women's seasons end, the captains call the teams in for one last game. A game of naked basketball. P.J. had been dreading this night all year, and now it was here. He watched his younger sister pull down her shorts and underwear, and stand before him naked, and embarrassed. She looked at him, her eyes saying, "Why didn't you tell me?".
The game only had two rules. The first rule was that you had to be naked other than socks and shoes. The second rule was that it was not to be talked about. Ever. The game started and both P.J. and Carrie were nervous. Carrie got the ball on the wing, and looked at the naked girl guarding her, her boobs bouncing, and looked behind and saw a man with his dick flopping around as he tried to post another player. She shot and it wasn't even close, bouncing off the rim and going out of bounds.
P.J. dribbled the ball up the court and saw a small opening to drive the lane. He went for it, but a defender got in his way, and he ran into her; her boobs pushing against his chest. He lost the ball out of bounds, and tried to forget feeling her tits against him.
Soon, Carrie gathered a rebound and made a layup. That seemed to settle her down, as suddenly she was her normal shooting star self, making jumper after jumper. P.J. stood in awe on defense watching his younger sister smoothly jump, her tits even moving in harmony. She was in the zone, she didn't care that her own brother was looking at her bush and boobs as she played. She was here to win.
That seemed to be the general consensus. As the game wore on, no one cared that they were naked. They were all too competitive, they all hated losing too much. Soon guys were posting up guys, not caring if they had a dick against their ass. Girls would swipe at the ball, not caring if the brushed a guy's penis along the way.
