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Subject: {ASSM} New: Hanna - Chapter 9
Date: Wed, 24 Sep 2003 20:10:24 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Hanna Chapter 9.txt" begin>

					Hanna Chapter 9
					Learning Love


      Although she'd never attended any other school, we gave Moira a choice 
of returning to the private school, or attending a public high school. Her 
friends were at the private school, so she said she'd prefer to remain 
there.
      They were in for a big shock when they discovered that Moira could 
see. In fact, she `played the game' for a few days, to see how long it would 
take for them to catch on. After three days, everyone knew, so she stopped 
the pretense. When she checked out regular books for her classes, the jig 
was up, anyway.
      The boys noticed immediately that she was using makeup--a little--and 
taking more care with hair and color coordination of her clothing. Beautiful 
to begin with, now she was magnificent.
      She was also intimidating.
      Standing an inch over six feet, she was taller than all but three 
students in the school. A lot of the boys lusted after her, but most were 
unwilling to try their luck with a girl several inches taller.
      And Moira didn't minimize her height. She didn't slouch, or wear low 
shoes just to look shorter. She was proud of herself, and, now that she 
could use a mirror, proud of how she looked. She even learned to walk in 
heels, and wore them often. Said she liked the way they made her butt look.

      She had a terrible time in PE classes. Still lacking hand-eye 
coordination, she had trouble with many of the games. When she was blind, 
she was given special exercises and games. Thrown in with the others, she 
saw that she had some work to do.
      It didn't take her long, though, to learn to do without the little 
radio when she was running. She learned to handle the lane markers just like 
everyone else and concentrated on getting down the track. A high school 
freshman, she was so large, many didn't believe she could do sprints. "How 
can you get legs that long to move fast enough to sprint?" many asked.
      Moira's answer was, "Just like this!" as she accelerated past her 
opponents. Her size was an advantage, since her stride was longer. As long 
as she could make her feet meet the track often enough, she'd win her race.
      That fall, she said she'd try cross-country. There wasn't really much 
for sprinters until spring track season in high school.
      Hanna, wisely, had her wear elbow and knee pads, like a skateboarder, 
at first. It saved a lot of wear and tear on those joints, since Moira fell 
often, until she learned to interpret what she saw in the terrain ahead of 
her and coordinate it with her running feet. Moira had never had to run on 
an uneven surface. It was an interesting time for us all.

      At Stanford, Jason was applying himself to the normal freshman 
classes--and learning that his `old man' was right... There are no easy classes 
at Stanford. Playing football, too, made it more difficult, in a sense. On 
the other hand, he had the advantage of good advice from the coaching staff 
and tutors at need.
      Jason was the number three quarterback on the depth chart. That meant 
that he didn't get very many snaps during practice--but he had to know the 
plays, since he was the guy who signaled them in from the sideline during 
the game. This was to his benefit, since he had the chance to learn why the 
offensive coordinator chose certain plays in certain situations.
      Really, he was pleased. He'd thought he'd have to play on the freshman 
squad. With the varsity, he didn't get much playing time, but he learned at 
the top level.
      He got to play twice, during the season. One game was a blowout and 
the coach emptied the bench. The other was a tighter contest, but Stanford 
had a lead with only a minute to go.
      "Rogers!" the coach barked.
      "Yessir?"
      "Get in there. Run a double fade, long. Then the X-Post."
      "Yessir!" Jason said, as he put on his helmet and ran onto the field. 
Stanford was on its own 40. Both plays were long passes--`bombs'--and Jason 
had the arm for them. Coach wanted to see if his arm was as strong in a 
game...and if he could throw accurately with opposition players trying to tear 
his head off.
      In the huddle, Jason called his first play...and grinned at his 
wide-outs. "Run like hell, guys."
      He overthrew the receiver on the left sideline, but Stanford managed 
to get a pass interference call out of it.
      The X-Post, called for the wide-outs to clear the zones by crossing 
about 10 yards downfield. The primary receiver was the tight end, who was 
supposed to block for two seconds, then streak straight down the field. 
Either wide receiver could also be a target, if one came free.
      When they ran the play, the defensive backs got confused and one was 
picked off, leaving a receiver free. Jason picked that up and connected 
fifteen yards downfield. Jason didn't get to see the reception, since he was 
leveled by a linebacker about a second after he made his throw.
      Hearing the cheers, he knew something good had happened. It had. 
Stanford had a first down on the four yard line.
      The starting quarterback came back into the game, giving Jason a `high 
five' as he did.
      On the sideline, the coach said, "Don't be discouraged. I got just 
what I wanted from you. A little more experience and you can finish off a 
drive that you salvage so spectacularly."
      Jason smiled shyly, and put the headset back on.

      Stanford finished with a five and five record. They did beat Cal, so 
the season was considered a success. But there would be no bowl games that 
year.

- - + + + + + - -

      At home, Moira missed Jason fiercely. But she had so much more work to 
do, to keep up her grades at the high school, that she appreciated Jason's 
problem and allowed him the space he required.
      They both often had dates Friday evenings. Jason usually came home 
Saturday evening, until football was over, then mid-morning on Saturday. He 
and Moira would talk, with great animation, about all the events of the 
week. He seemed just as interested in what her friends were saying about the 
latest rock group as she was about his evil calculus professor.
      Saturday nights, they'd fuck each other's brains out.
      Sunday morning was church, then a family afternoon--except that Jason 
often had to beg off, needing to study.
      When the tryouts for the baseball team started, Jason gave it his best 
shot, but just didn't have the skills. So he participated in spring 
football.
      He hated it.
      Oh, he liked football. He just felt that the spring drills were all 
conditioning and Mickey Mouse that would be gone by fall anyway. He hated 
the waste of time and energy.
      Especially, the time that he could be spending better either in study 
or in Moira's bed.

      One Sunday afternoon, he mentioned his frustration.
      "Why don't you do some other sport in the spring?" I asked.
      "Cause my scholarship requires me to do football, since I didn't make 
the baseball team."
      "Have you thought about track?"
      "I've never done track."
      "The way you throw a football, I'll bet you'd do well in javelin," I 
commented.
      "Just looking at javelin throws, I think it's a whole different 
technique."
      "Naw. More similar than you think. Javelin guys practice with a 
football lots of the time--when they're in the field house, for example, and 
can't chuck their spears. Maybe it would even help your football technique... 
Why don't you talk with the track coach? Maybe somebody would be willing to 
work with you this summer--see how you do?"
      "OK. I'll look into it. Thanks for the idea, dad."
      I grinned at him. "I used to hate spring football, too. That's why I 
did track, to begin with."
      Jason followed up on the conversation. After a couple of three-hour 
workouts with the track people, he had picked up the idea well enough that, 
with his superior coordination, he could throw the javelin about an average 
distance for the PAC-10.
      The track coach was excited, and definitely wanted him the next year. 
He felt that, with some good coaching and work, Jason would become very 
competitive with the javelin.
      Remembering that I had helped him recruit Jason, and that I had been 
an international track star, the football coach went along. As soon as 
football was done, Jason belonged to the track coach.

      Moira, meanwhile, was `tearing up' high school, academically. After 
three months in her freshman classes, she "challenged" the classes, passed 
the finals with solid `A's, and was advanced to the sophomore class. She 
finished the year as a sophomore, but had successfully challenged two more 
classes, and had a quarter of her junior year completed by the end of her 
first year.
      We knew the girl was bright. We had no idea she was that bright!

      That summer was a wonderful time for all of us. We stayed in our new 
Oregon home, and made the process of furnishing the place and settling in an 
adventure for all of us.
      We did put our foot down when the kids wanted to share a room.
      "Look, you two... We'll have company over and so will you. Let's not 
deliberately get the family broken up or jailed, OK?"
      The kids nodded... not convinced.
      Hanna grinned. "Why don't you take the rooms that share the downstairs 
bath? Then you'd have your own bath--and be responsible for keeping it 
clean!--as well as a very private passageway to each other's room. The 
guestrooms are on the main floor, so the bathroom would only be used during 
parties downstairs, other than you two. I guess I'm saying that you'd have 
privacy, even when we do have overnight company."
      The kids started to grin, too.
      "Of course, if we have so much overnight company that we have to bunk 
people in the family room, too, I'd expect you two to stay in your own beds 
until they're gone. OK?"
      The grins threatened to split their faces. They agreed 
enthusiastically.

      Jason had pledged the Beta fraternity.  He liked the house facility 
out by Lake Lagunita--and the fact that he could stay at home as much as he 
wanted.  When he had a late class, or had studied late at the library, he'd 
stay in the frat house.  But two nights out of three, he'd be at home, where 
his sister had learned that, if she wanted to share his bed, she had to let 
him get the sleep he required.
      And he needed the rest.  Jason was the backup quarterback, his 
sophomore year.  Practices seemed to last forever, except that they were 
fascinating as he learned the "west coast offense" in depth he hadn't 
thought possible.  He also got respectable playing time, Saturday 
afternoons.
      Late in one game, with Stanford trailing, he was put in to try a 
couple of long passes, like his freshman debut.  The first was a long 
completion, giving Stanford the ball on their own 30.  The next play was a 
screen.  Except that the end opposite the screen ran a post.  The Arizona 
secondary bit on the play action, except a safety, who saw the screen and 
ran into the middle of it.  Jason saw the end and hit him in stride, just 
before he was buried under amber jerseys.  Although consensus underdogs in 
the game, Stanford was down two points with 35 seconds to go.
      The coach signaled for a two-point conversion--and to everyone's 
surprise, left Jason in the game.  (Not many outside the Stanford team knew 
how strong a runner Jason was.)  One play.  If they crossed the goal line, 
they were tied.  If not, they were losers.
      After faking to the fullback off the left guard, Jason sprinted to his 
right, looking for a receiver in the end zone.  No one was open, so he 
squared his shoulders and powered for the pylon at the goal line.  Running 
over a linebacker, he made it in with room to spare.
      Arizona won in overtime, but knew they'd been in a dogfight.  Although 
Stanford was sixth in the Pac-10, they were close in most of their games.  
And Jason started getting mentioned in the sports news.
      Moira, meanwhile, kept busy with schoolwork, challenging some 
additional classes, earning senior designation by Thanksgiving.  She also 
ran cross-country (she didn't like volleyball, although her height gave her 
an advantage).
      When Stanford played at home, the family was in the stands, and Moira 
became a knowledgeable fan, like her mother.  Of course, Sundays when the 
49ers played at home, they'd be in the owner's skybox or in the seats 
reserved for players' families at `the stick'.
      Managing to beat Cal, the season ended on a positive note for the 
Cardinal.
      Jason began his tutoring in throwing the javelin.
      During a break, he remarked to his coach that it was too bad his 
sister couldn't join them.
      "What's her event?" the coach asked.
      "Sprints," Jason replied, grinning.
      "What's funny about that?"
      "You have to see her.  She's really tall--almost as tall as me.  Nobody 
can figure out how a girl that big can move her legs that fast.  She drives 
them nuts in her high school."
      Intrigued, the coach asked, "If I can get one of the sprint guys to 
work with her this winter, do you think she'd consider Stanford?"
      Jason laughed, delighted.  "She hasn't considered anywhere else, since 
she first visited the Medical Center, years ago."
      The coach was putting some old information together.  "She was born 
blind.  Your dad's the football player who throws discus, right?"
      "Yep.  Except Dad's retired from active athletics now.  He works for 
the 49ers in the front office, and is a member of the USOC.  So's mom."
      "Yeah.  I haven't met her, but I know who we're talking about now.  
Could she handle the load at Stanford?"
      Jason really laughed at this.  When the coach looked at him 
reproachfully, Jason explained.  "She's going to the private high school in 
Hillsborough.  And though it's only her second year there, she's challenged 
enough classes that she's officially a senior.  She wants to go to Stanford 
while I'm still here to help her get started."
      "Interesting.  We get back together Friday, right?"
      Jason nodded.
      "Why don't you try to bring her along?  I'll get one of the sprint 
guys to come work with her.  In fact, he could work with you, too.  Your 
approach is still too slow."
      Grinning, Jason said, "She'll be here.  If she has a hot date, I'll 
get her to postpone it."


      At first, the sprint coach couldn't understand how Moira was getting 
so much speed out of the first 50 yards out of the blocks, either.  The 
second half of the race was easy to understand--her legs were so long that 
her stride was at least a foot longer than her opponents'.  But how could 
she get such an explosive start?
      After watching a lot of tape, the coach came to understand that Moira 
had very strong legs, and that her initial push off the blocks was all 
horizontal.  Somehow, she was able to keep that energy going forward, with 
very little upward movement.  He never did understand how she was able to 
make those long legs hit the track as often as they did.  By rights, a girl 
her size should be doing middle distances or miles--but her times were there 
to read.  She was a sprinter.
      All winter, two or three afternoons every week, Moira would join Jason 
for workouts with the Stanford track coaches.


      That spring, the high school track season began with a large 
"tournament".  Moira was thrilled when she ended up winning both 100 and 220 
yard sprints.  At the last minute, her high school coach entered her in the 
440, too.  She ended up second--and feeling she could have won that too, if 
she'd trained at that distance.
      Still euphoric when she returned home, she couldn't wait for Jason to 
get home.  He'd been at an "away" meet with the Stanford team, and would 
arrive that evening.
      After a family dinner, where Jason regaled the family with tales of 
how he'd won javelin in a three-way meet with USC and UCLA, Moira got to 
tell her brother about winning the sprints in the two-day tournament.
      Her enthusiasm carried into Jason's room when they went to bed.
      Kissing him all over his face and neck, she paused, when he would have 
pulled her up onto him.  "Keep that thought, Jase.  I want to try 
something."  To Jason's grinned assent, she kissed her way down his chest, 
before licking his rampant cock.  Then, to Jason's astonishment, she inhaled 
it to the root.  She'd kissed and licked it before, as he had her--but it had 
been foreplay.  She'd never taken more than the head into her mouth before.  
No wonder Jason was surprised when she deep-throated him!
      His surprise didn't immobilize him for long.  He swiveled around so 
that he could reach his sister.  Then he pulled her so that her mid-section 
was over him, placing her freshly-shaven pussy within reach of his eager 
tongue.
      Within seconds, both teens were enjoying a satisfying climax.
      When Moira sucked him back to erection, she turned and impaled herself 
on it.  Then lying forward, so her large breasts cushioned her, she asked, 
"So, other than that, how was your day?"  Jason began giggling, causing 
Moira to have a small orgasm.  Feeling that, Jason stopped giggling, and 
commenced stroking upward into her.  When she began rocking on him, he 
captured one of her breasts and sucked hard on the nipple.  That was enough 
to send Moira over again--her massive orgasm being enough to set Jason off, 
too.
      Moira just laid down where she was, Jason still embedded in her, and 
whispered, "I love you," before she was asleep.  Jason followed within 
minutes.


      It sure seemed the second generation of the Rodgers clan was going to 
follow our path into the track and field world.  Now all we had to do was 
figure out how they could spend their lives together.




6
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