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 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