Captain Zim
Copyright© 2025 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 14
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 14 - David Zimmerman is your average high school junior, a bookish sort with average everything — except athletic ability. He can't throw or hit, swims like a turtle and has wimpy muscles. He was chosen last for every sport in elementary school — when he was chosen at all. His life changed when he kicked a field goal squarely between the uprights, then it changed again the next time he was in a ball game
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Consensual Fiction
I turned and saw Phil and Kristie heading back to the group. Sean was waiting patiently, looking at me. Jeez, he never gives up, I thought. And realized that I was hard.
“When I dropped CC off earlier, your Mom told her that they were going to treat the summer as one long weekend. Her curfew was going to be midnight. CC was tired, though, and went on into bed.” He nodded towards my Dad. “You too?”
“No more curfew,” I laughed, uneasy at the emotions running through me. “Of course, I think it’s a sneaky trick. Not to mention, if I show up tomorrow at nine in the morning, things might change radically.”
“Mom told me that she trusted me; that she thought what I did for Diane was the bravest thing she could ever imagine anyone doing.” Sean’s eyes met mine. “She was crying.”
“I’m sorry, Sean,” I said, touching his shoulder.
“Damn close!” he said, talking to himself, “Too damn close!” I wasn’t sure if he was talking about what had happened then, or me now. I let my hand fall away.
He smiled at me. “You hear bad things these days about the priests, don’t hear them so much about nuns. But if it hadn’t been for them taking us in, Zim ... we wouldn’t have survived as a family.” His eyes met mine. “Most people like Mom ... they just keep going down the drain. They suck down their families with them sometimes too. Oh, they’re sorry about it when they are sober, but most of the time, they’re not. Either sober or sorry.”
“Well, this is here and now. You’ve got as good a shot as you’re going to get,” I told him.
“Thanks for that, Zim.” He nodded towards the group, back to listening to the fiddlers. “The others didn’t say it now, but right now they’re talking to people, getting things set for tomorrow. I’ll talk to Diane. She’ll be there.”
“And if you hadn’t asked me to play yesterday, Sean, right now I’d be sleeping in my room, or reading a book. Until I started talking to you on the beach the other day, that was what I was doing, reading a book.”
The crowd had thinned out considerably, but there were still quite a few. I walked a little closer, as they were singing folk songs; not like camp songs, but real folk songs. Kristie’s friend Paula was leading; she had a wonderful, clear voice that carried well and seemed to pick up the other voices and lift them along.
I stood off to one side, not far off, singing with them, but not as loudly as the others; it was, I found, a great way to relax, clear my mind, and drift along with none of the stresses and strains from the last few days.
It had been stress- and strain-filled, I realized. From the first moment I laid eyes on Diane, I’d so much not wanted to embarrass myself. It didn’t hardly make sense that you could go in one day from not wanting to embarrass yourself to not believing what had happened to you; embarrassment was close to the least of my worries.
I pushed it down, made it go away, and concentrated on simply singing.
After a bit, Paula excused herself, saying she was tired and needed some sleep. She and Kristie walked away hand in hand. Not far away, Phil had been sitting behind a girl on the beach; for the last few minutes, he’d been openly fondling her breasts; now they too got up and vanished. The group was finally breaking up, and I turned my steps towards the hotel, a little lethargic.
I’d taken about twenty steps when I decided that I was too antsy to sleep; I was wide awake; the tranquility provided by the music fading away. I turned on my heel and walked back along the beach, just past the waves. I concentrated on the sound, using the sound instead of music to blank my mind.
Finally, I just stopped, listening to the waves, looking at the stars in the sky, thinking and thinking. Eventually, I felt better, but now I was still feeling sick from Tasha. I walked out into the water a bit, waist-deep. The water was amazingly warm; there was just a breath of wind, and even when I dunked down and back up, I didn’t feel chilly.
I let the small waves rock me back and forth; like a buoy or something, I thought.
That was me, I thought. Yesterday, today, I was like a buoy, being pushed this way and that way by the currents around me. What, David Zimmerman, I thought, have you done for yourself? It was CC that had given me a hand job, a start on a blow job. It had been Mom who’d come on to me. I’d have looked at Diane and never bothered to take the first step; it had taken Sean’s comments and continual pushing to get me past that first step. Tasha had handed me a business card, had crawled all over me. Sean had pushed and pushed, but I fended him off.
The closest thing to doing something for myself? Well, let’s see. I’d dumped on the Gin and Tonic sisters. I’d asked Dad if we could reconsider how long we stayed here.
A voice from the darkness behind me said quietly. “It’s not terribly wise to swim at night by yourself.” The voice was male and had a vaguely British accent; the words were clipped and precise.
“I’m trying to think like a buoy,” I said, breaking loose of my mental fugue.
The man laughed lightly. “I’ve never had any trouble thinking like a boy, particularly when I was your age.”
I laughed at the pun, turned and walked back the few feet to the wet sand. “Sorry, walking and thinking.”
He nodded, waving at the surf phosphorescing at our feet, at the glorious firmament above us. “This is the place for it, surely. I hope I didn’t spoil your moment.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve been in the water enough today.”
“Not as much chance of a burn, this time of night,” he agreed. He nodded at me. “I wish I’d spent more time when I was your age thinking. I don’t know if it would have changed things, but you never know.” He scuffed the sand with a sandal-clad foot. “Life, young man, is never as easy as you think. In fact, the easier it seems at some moment, the more you need to be careful. There are monsters that hide in the bushes, hide right under your very nose, so close you can see them, but too close to recognize.”
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