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Subject: {ASSM} New: Hanna - Chapter 6
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<1st attachment, "Hanna Chapter 6.txt" begin>
Hanna Chapter 6
This Game is More Like a Job...
I guess the coaches liked the way I played. I know my teammates did.
The starting tight end went down with a severe injury early in the season...
In spite of lots of prayers for his speedy recovery, he never played in the
NFL again.
So I started the last eight regular season games.
They traded for a veteran tight end, to be my backup. The way the
coaches expressed it to me, I knew the system and fit well in the offense.
The new guy had to learn everything, even though he had six years in the
league... He wasn't so good catching passes, either, though he was a demon
blocking for sweeps or on short yardage plays.
It was all very flattering, and I even got some media attention. I
just wanted to play on a regular basis and flatten the occasional
cornerback. Catching a pass from time to time was the whipped cream on top.
We won the division that year, and the first two playoff games.
Then our nemesis, the Vikings, beat us for the championship and the
trip to the Super Bowl. Since we'd handled them OK during the season, we
were pretty disappointed.
That year, my second, I was elected to the Pro Bowl and enjoyed a
wonderful month in Hawaii with Hanna and kids. While we were lying on lounge
chairs by the pool at a resort near Lahaina, watching the kids play in the
pool, we were able to chat and relax and enjoy some quality family time.
(Moira played in the pool. She was a good swimmer, who knew how to feel
ahead for walls and obstacles. She occasionally ran into a person, but that
just added to her fun.)
Lovemaking in Hawaii was fun, too. Our `cottage' had a glass wall
overlooking a private lanai, with ocean in the background. We'd open the
doors as far as they'd go, then make love with a gentle ocean breeze playing
across us. All the comforts, yet just like being outdoors...
Back home, we swung into preparation for the track season. We were in
good shape, but hadn't worked out much in Hawaii. Both of us were at the top
of our form, though, and soon restored all we'd lost being lazy.
- - + + + + + - -
Derrick's talented tongue slowly licked a rivulet of sweat from
Holly's breast.
They were lying, exhausted, in her sweat-soaked and torn-up bed.
Looking at her spectacular, petite figure, Derrick felt his cock stir.
Holly felt it, too.
"Oh, no you don't!" she remonstrated weakly. "You've fucked me to a
frazzle already. I have to work in the morning and I don't think I'll be
able to get up, as it is."
Derrick didn't argue. He just snuggled up behind her, with his arms
and lower leg cradling her sexy shape.
Then he entered her from behind, slowly and gently.
"Damn you, Derrick!" she whined. "I just can't."
"'Sokay. I'll do it all," Derrick whispered, as he began stroking in
her very slowly.
Although she was excited by this, Holly was spent. She enjoyed a
gentle but protracted final orgasm, then fell asleep, while he continued to
stroke in her.
The two of them had been going together for about two years. Derrick
had realized that the couple of times he'd been with Holly, she'd given him
the best sex he ever had. He called her one evening, shortly after he
graduated from the university.
Trying to stay celibate, trying to become `normal,' Holly was making
progress. When he called, she gladly agreed to get together with him. She
was so horny she could hardly stand it, and at least Derrick would
understand and not try to take advantage of her.
Derrick liked the nice, bubbly girl we'd discovered in Holly. And
Holly thought Derrick was just too `yummy' to be real!
That night, they enjoyed a pizza and a pitcher of beer--and each
other's company. Although neither admitted it to the other that night, they
were both highly turned on, too.
They went out to a movie a few nights later and talked for hours over
cokes and Big Macs afterwards.
By the end of the third date, Derrick thought he was falling in love.
He didn't really want to. He knew all about Holly's problem and suspected,
with reason, that she wasn't over it.
Holly KNEW she was falling in love. Of course, she had many times
before. But this time, she wasn't just looking for a hard prick. She really
enjoyed spending time with Derrick, even though he was younger, and even
though he didn't offer to `scratch her itch.'
Their fourth date they went to a roadhouse for dinner and dancing.
Derrick didn't order wine with their meal. They didn't need it--the company
was more intoxicating.
Coming back to their table after a slow dancing set, Holly didn't let
go of his hand when he seated her. Looking into his eyes, she studied his
face.
Nodding, a decision made, she asked, "Derrick, how come you haven't
come on to me? I know you're interested." A bubbly giggle, "I can tell when
we're dancing."
Derrick blushed.
"But you've never even tried to kiss me, beyond a good-night peck. How
come?"
"Holly..." he started, swallowed hard and started again. "Holly, I
respect you. I like you enormously. I... I... Oh, hell, Holly, I love you! I
don't want to do anything with you to get you messed up like you were
before..." He trailed off, feeling he was making a mess of things, and
embarrassed that he had let his feelings slip out like that.
Holly had caught it, though. "Derry, I feel the same way about you.
I'm having a great time just being with you...talking or going out or
whatever. But, you really turn me on, too. Do you suppose two people who
really respect each other, and are maybe coming to love each other, can love
in bed too, without it turning into a problem?"
Derrick smiled fondly at her. "I don't know, Holly. I guess you'd know
about that better than I would. I know I want you desperately. Yet I'm happy
just being with you. We don't have to go to bed, if you don't want."
"That's just it. I DO want! I'm worried about starting again, and
going back to my old ways--and losing you as a result."
"Yeah. I can see that. I don't know what to say, Holly. I know I don't
want to lose you, either. And I don't want to hurt you, ever. You're real
important to me."
They'd already paid their tab, so when Holly stood, Derrick threw a
few dollars on the table for the tip, and Holly towed him out of there.
At the door of Holly's little apartment, she wouldn't let him go. With
a small grin--they both knew she wasn't serious--Holly said, "If you don't
come in here with me, and make love to me right now, I'll scream `rape' at
the top of my lungs."
Grinning, he allowed as how he wouldn't want to go to jail for some
little misunderstanding like that.
Once inside with the door locked, they were in each other's arms in an
instant. Their mouths attacked the other and their clothes disappeared
magically.
Holly was more turned on than she thought.
She came when she felt him penetrate her.
"Just a minute, Derry," she panted. "I need to catch my breath. Then I
can take care of you properly."
Derrick was not inexperienced, but he'd never seen a woman come so
fast or so hard as Holly. Though she was still gasping, he started to stroke
in her, changing the angle and tempo every few strokes, so she wouldn't get
used to any one thing.
She came again.
And again, when he kept stroking right through her orgasm.
She tried to push him off, when she felt a fourth orgasm start to
swell within her, stronger than anything she'd experienced. This time, she
did scream. But she wasn't screaming "rape!" she was screaming, "Derry! Oh!
Derry! I love you! OH! DERRY!!"
It was enough to get Derrick off, too. But her pussy clamped down on
him so tight, he couldn't pump his seed into her. When she finally relaxed,
he needed to come badly, and started stroking again.
Soon, Holly came again--loudly screaming her love, and Derrick was able
to finally fill her greedy little snatch.
In the morning, only half-awake, they loved each other again, slowly
and sensuously.
Over breakfast, Derrick asked, "Holly, what should we do now?"
Holly gave him a big grin and said, "I think we'd better live
together. I really don't want to be a slut again, but you've sure reminded
my body of why it was addicted to orgasms. Can you fuck me like you did more
than just occasionally?"
It was Derrick's turn to grin. "Holly, I'm loving you, not fucking
you. And it isn't a chore. It's the most natural thing in the world. I'll
show you tonight, OK?"
"How about right now?" the insatiable girl asked.
"Can't. Got to be at work in a half-hour, and I gotta go back to my
place and get changed first."
That night, Derrick rang her chimes again. And received in turn the
wildest, most talented sex he'd ever imagined.
The next day, he moved into her apartment.
He knew she'd stray from time to time. But he knew that it was just
her nature.
He also knew that he loved her madly, and believed her when she said
she loved him just as much. As long as she knew to come home and made her
`stray stuff' use condoms, he wasn't going to make a big deal out of it.
They were really in love. Both of them truly wanted to be monogamous.
They figured the way to do that was to keep Holly so satisfied at home, she
wouldn't be tempted.
Derrick was certainly the right guy to take up the challenge. He did
things to her, with fingers, mouth and cock, that no one had ever done!
Holly admitted to Hanna that he could make her come continuously as long as
he wanted--until she was hoarse from screaming and weakly pushed him from
her... or passed out from sensual overload.
She was willing to be monogamous for that kind of loving.
- - + + + + + - -
By my fourth year in the NFL, I'd been to the Pro Bowl three times,
but was still looking for a Super Bowl ring.
The 49ers had drafted well and enjoyed a good crop of rookies that
year. The team was solid, so we didn't need too many, and had gone after
quality, not quantity. One was an offensive guard from Ohio, who was
amazing, for a rookie. Another was a linebacker who liked to hit people--the
bigger they were and the harder they hit, the better he liked it. By the
second game, he was a starter.
Another was a tight end--who resembled me as I'd been a few years ago.
Coach assured me that I was his starter. This guy was such a good
athlete, they had to draft him when he was still available at their turn.
Besides, he was high quality insurance, if something should happen to me.
We had a pre-season game against Tampa Bay. The starters played the
first quarter, then warmed the wood for the rest of the game. The next day
was a cut day and half the players suited up would be gone by Monday
evening.
The next week, we had another warm-up, against Chicago. This time, the
starters played into the third quarter, with lots of substitutions for all
of us. I felt our offense was coming together pretty well--which our
quarterback confirmed over a beer after the game. All but four of the
rookies were gone after Monday. The three I mentioned were good and were
fitting in, along with a cornerback from a small private school, who'd been
drafted in the fourth round and surprised everybody with his skills and
attitude.
When the season started, we had a good crew. The perception was good
from outside, too. Las Vegas had us and Atlanta as the pre-season favorites
to win the conference.
Our third season game was an inter-conference matchup against the
Raiders. There was a lot of interest in the bay area in seeing the two teams
play each other--natural rivalry, and all that. Oakland wasn't expected to
win it all that year, but they had their well-deserved reputation for
hitting hard and playing hard...and taking more penalty yards than any other
team.
Just before the end of the third quarter, I went in for a shallow
slant across the middle. I caught the ball, but got a `high-low' just as I
did. A safety hit my knees from the right just as the middle linebacker hit
me high. I could feel ribs giving way. Somehow, I hung on to the ball. But I
couldn't get up on my own. I've been hit and I've been hurt, but that time,
the pain immobilized me.
They got out the stretcher and the cart and all, and hauled me to the
first-aid room for X-rays. The good news was that the lungs were OK. The bad
news was that two ribs were broken, and two others cracked. I was out for
six weeks, minimum.
A week later, the orthopedic surgeon gave me the bad news.
"Your ribs aren't healing the way I'd like to see them, Gary. The long
and the short of it is that you won't be playing this season--and maybe not
next... I found some damage to your spine, too. We need to get it all fixed
and healed before you can risk contact again."
"Thanks, I guess, doc. Does the team know?"
"Yeah. I spoke to the team doctor a couple hours ago."
"So what's the prognosis?"
"For the spine, ninety-five percent odds of complete healing. For the
ribs, even better than that. There's a new compound out that promotes bone
growth. I'd like to use it on the ribs--I think it will give better results
than just letting nature do it."
"Any risk factors?"
"Not really. We'll have to open you up to get at the breaks. That's
always a risk of infection. Other than that, this material usually results
in stronger bone than before... I have a pamphlet on it I'll leave with you.
I'd like to do it tomorrow, though. The spinal work will be next week.
That's a `scope' job and should go pretty easy."
"OK, doc. Please take the time to explain it all to Hanna. She's real
concerned."
He agreed and left.
Hanna and I discussed it that evening when she visited me in the
hospital. We agreed that we trusted the doctor, and would go ahead as he
suggested.
The next day, I had the operation. And the spinal procedure the next
week.
When they finally let me out of the hospital, I felt like a real
dufus. They took me out in a wheelchair, although I insisted I was able to
walk on my own. At home, I was very restricted in what I was allowed to do.
The tight bandages around my ribs constantly reminded me that I shouldn't
move much.
I couldn't even make love to Hanna--though she gave me a blowjob that
removed a rusty load from three weeks of hospital.
I was losing a lot of muscle and body mass through my enforced
idleness. Finally, the doctor let me do leg lifts and lower body exercise,
and easy arm sets--but no heavy weights on the upper body stuff! At least,
doing curls with light weights, I was able to keep some muscle in the arms
and maintain some tone there. Chest and abdomen--forget it!
Recovery was disgustingly slow. I wasn't able to play again that
season. And, though I was in pretty good shape, my strength wasn't there for
the summer track season. I was competitive, but not dominant like I had
been.
Hanna, on the other hand, was dominant in the pole vault and still
competitive in high jump, though she figured she only had another year of
that event in her.
Football camp that fall beginning my fifth season was just work--hard
work and lots of it. I enjoyed meeting my friends on the team again and we
had some laughs. But the joy had gone out of it.
Football was just a job.
Besides, our income now was such that I didn't need the salary from
the 49ers to maintain our living standard.
In the second preseason game, another rib cracked.
Hanna wanted me to quit--unless it was `in my blood' and I really
played for love of the sport. She was seriously concerned about injury. And
the type of injury I was likely to get playing football would take me out of
discus, too. Knees are important to discus.
I reminded her that I'd been a football player `forever'. Many aspects
of the pro game were just a job...but it was, still, a job I could do.
However, the Football Hall of Fame was not a big deal to me.... I agreed with
her. The game was no longer fun or worth the effort.
We called our agent, and I visited the coach.
He'd been on the golf course and was relaxing as much as NFL head
coaches do. Glad to see me, he offered a drink and a seat on a comfortable
sofa.
"Coach, I want to hang it up."
"But Gary, I was counting on you..."
"I know, coach. That's why I'm talking to you instead of having my
agent just make an announcement... Hanna and I are both seriously concerned
about the damage a guy's body takes playing football at this level. Two
serious injuries have convinced me. I want to keep my legs and ankles
intact. And I have to confess, it's become just a job to me. I don't have
the fire any more. I think it's time to move on."
The 49ers are a superior organization and the coach is one of the
best--as a man as well as a coach. "If you really believe that, Gary, than
all I can say is, `God bless you. We'll miss you.'"
"Thanks, coach. I appreciate that. I'm still a 49er. If you'll make
sure the team stays fair with me, I'll always be a 49er."
"I appreciate that, Gary. I'll have a chat with the owner. He'll be
really disappointed. But I'll do all I can."
"Works for me, coach. I'd like to see you do nothing but kick ass and
win the Super Bowl."
He grinned wryly, "That would be easier if I had you in the line,
Gary. But thanks."
The fans in the `City by the Bay' were disappointed as much as the
coach. For a short time, we had to be careful when we went out--I'd find some
fan trying to argue me into returning to the team.
That died out and we were just another well-to-do young family.
Hanna, determined that I'd never feel I'd `missed something', went out
of her way to make our life in bed exciting. One night, she started with a
blowjob so fantastic the hair on my neck stood up. Then, just before I lost
it, she plugged me in and `milked' me with her talented internal muscles.
When I came, it was like seldom before; it just streamed out of me, with a
release I hadn't felt since the last time I got her pregnant.
Feeling my excitement, and my tongue on her nipple, Hanna came right
along with me, screaming her rapture.
Wow! I sure wasn't missing anything.
We discussed moving. We could live anywhere. Did we want to move back
to Oregon?
In the end, we decided to have homes in both places. For now, we
wanted to be near the Stanford Medical School, where some exciting work was
being done on vision problems. But we needed to shelter more income and
buying a home near our parents made sense. (Besides, if we had our own
place, we wouldn't be forced to choose between the parents, or choose the
chicken coop.)
I told dad he should rent out the chicken coop. When the time came,
we'd buy our own place.
It turned out to be several years later.
Derrick and Holly flew down to visit us.
Sitting around the family room after dinner, Hanna asked, "Not that
we're not glad to see you, but what brings you two down here this time?"
They both got devilish grins. Derrick spoke, when I reached over to
poke his ribs. "We want you two to be witnesses at our wedding."
"You bastard! The folks will kill you if they're not included."
"Yeah. I know. We want to fly over to Vegas, and do it there. I'll
call mom in the morning, and invite them."
I got up, opened a bottle of the good wine, and proposed a toast for a
long happy marriage, with tons of kids.
Hanna's relief was almost palpable when I retired from football. To
tell the truth, I was happy to quit. I had not lied when I said that making
the Hall of Fame was not one of my goals. Without the rigors of football to
consume more than half of each year, we could concentrate on track meets and
the children.
Our ability to make more money than we were spending from our
investment program played a big part in my decision. Track meets, though
lucrative, were more a means of keeping in shape and involved in something
than an important source of income. And I had qualified for the NFL
retirement plan, so we'd always have enough income to eat regularly.
I confess, though, that I was restless that summer without football to
look forward to. I was happy not to be beat up all the time and I would able
to watch all the football I wanted on the satellite--for that matter, Jimmy
made us welcome in the owner's box at The Stick, whenever I wanted.
The 49ers' owner and his family were very disappointed when I
announced my retirement from football--though they understood and were
supportive when Hanna and I explained our reasoning.
This happened at a dinner at their townhouse in San Francisco, where
Hanna and I were the only guests. Jimmy and his wife fed us well and told us
of their hopes for the team, with me as an important part.
I told them that I'd more than achieved all I wanted from football and
didn't need the income. On the other hand, the chance of serious injury was
high and increased as I got older, threatening my ability to make money from
the discus, and my long-term health and quality of life. I'd already
suffered two serious injuries and just didn't want any more. (Thinking of
Joe Namath's knees, as just one of many examples.)
Then I told them, as I had the coach, that the fire wasn't there any
more...
Put that way, they understood our viewpoint. When we told them our
income, from various sources--not like a financial report, but in the course
of the conversation--they understood that while my football income was
substantial, it was not the majority of our income. And our desire to keep
me healthy and whole was real and important.
Finally, we were offered five million dollars, plus a bunch of bonuses
and other incentives, to come back and play one more year. Given adequate
assurances that I would not be treated as an expendable asset, we agreed.
But it would be absolutely my last season of football.
The team had a good year. No, we had a great year!
I'd never played in a Super Bowl, and playing with all the stars on
that squad, I had to say that it was a memorable season. The rings are
cherished possessions that I take out of the safe and wear only when I need
to impress someone, or when I'm going to be with a lot of other football
players... The Pro Bowl was nice, too.
Even Moira enjoyed the weather and beauty of Hawaii. We enjoyed
describing it all to her. Swimming in a warm ocean is nice, too.
Then I hung up my cleats for the last time.
<1st attachment end>
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