Captain Zim
Copyright© 2025 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 19
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 19 - 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
It was 6:30 when I got down to the beach. I went and said hello to Sean, and he waved towards the concession area. “The Duke said you were going to his place to play poker tonight.”
I nodded, and Sean grinned. “He won’t let me play; he knows I can’t afford it.” He laughed, “He did offer once to let Diane and me both come over for strip poker.”
I thanked him, went over and found Duke at a table with a handful of others. “We’re all here,” he said, “Want to start a little early?” There was a chorus of assent. He looked at me. “Got a twenty on you?” I nodded; I’d hoped that that would be enough, should be for nickel-dime-quarter.
“We engage, Zim, in therapeutic probability analysis. TPA for short, or poker, if you are a hopeless mundane.” The others all laughed. “No wild cards, nothing weird. Five card stud, five card draw, seven card stud. Now and again,” He waved at a girl I didn’t know, “Jill Hanson there deals a deck of blackjack. Nickel ante, three raise limit, quarter limit on raises.” He waved around. “With seven people, and a little bad luck, you can spend the twenty bucks in a couple of hands. Won’t get you invited back any time soon; not that we’ll give your money back.
“Rule one is always ante up. Rule two is don’t forget your turn, Rule three is don’t whine or gloat ... too much.” More laughs. “Above all, we like to have fun.”
He waved at them, they were all a little older than the average on the beach, all eighteen or above. “Jill there, she’s a fine woman, fine. Also, she’s Jack’s lady, which means you might want to be careful how you flirt with her.” He waved at a guy who was tall and dark and stocky, Hispanic I thought. Jill was wearing a spectacularly short pair of shorts, a simple t-shirt over an ample bosom.
“Evan Logan. You really want to be careful around him. He’s a martial artist. What, second in the country?” Evan nodded. He was trim and fit, perhaps twenty-five or six, the oldest person there. “Once at a party, he put an apple on my head and kicked it off. Man, he jumped straight up seven feet, lashed out, and kapow! It was gone! We don’t let him play volleyball either. Once, he spiked the ball and popped it.”
I nodded politely to him, wondering what, if anything, I should believe.
“And then there’s Kevin Waterhouse.” Duke waved at a short guy, probably the youngest except for me. “Kevin is a wannabe rocket scientist. The only reason he’s down here is that there are no launches scheduled for a while from the Cape.” Another gesture. “And Linda Rodriguez. Her dad’s like one of the heads of the Cuban resistance. Don’t want to mess with her either. Her family is into guns and machetes.” The Duke pronounced the last word with the Mexican way of doing it. Linda was dark and cute, a bang of hair hanging over her left eye. She was wearing a thin cotton crop top, showing very nice, but small, breasts underneath. She was wearing loose-fitting jeans.
“And of course, Zim here. I ran a credit check on him, Logan. Richer than you.” Logan smiled. “Almost as rich as me.” I saw Linda Rodriguez eye me, and I smiled at her. The problem for someone like her, I thought, was wearing that thin crop top. It was instantly obvious that her nipples came erect when Duke said the word ‘rich.’
The Duke stood up and headed down the beach towards the parking lot. We walked about a quarter of a mile until I realized we were heading for a huge RV parked under a tree. “Cool, eh?” he said with a laugh. “The State told me I couldn’t park it here, so I offered them a quarter mill to put in power, water, and sewer. Since that was like ten times what it cost to put the utilities in, they shut up and took the money, and I was first in line after it was done.”
He opened the door; I was surprised it was unlocked. He saw my expression and laughed. “I’ve got a few clothes, mainly bathing suits. Very small bathing suits. I have a couple of decks of cards, maybe a couple hundred bucks at any one time; usually not that. The starter’s pulled and this boat is majorly anchored down.” He nodded at the front of the RV. “Pain in the ass, ‘cause I got to start it up once a month, but I have a guy who does that for me.”
“The meaning of comfortable,” I said equitably, and the Duke smiled and nodded.
“Exactly right, Zim.”
We played for two hours; I’d told them already that I wanted to make an early night of it, and several said that was good with them too. The Duke was a banterer, always talking ... about anything except the game. Logan was like me, mostly quiet. It was a genial, pleasant evening. After a bit, we had a break and the Duke pulled cokes out of the fridges, passed them around. Chips and dip.
All of them were killer poker players. Sure, I knew the rules, but these people all played poker and I quickly learned the difference. The Duke was flamboyant, and I was sure, bluffing quite a lot. But people were careful calling him; I never saw him get caught out.
Evan Logan was, I thought, tougher still. Linda was a little wild, betting sometimes when I didn’t think her cards justified it, she usually backed off at the last minute. Jack and Jill; I grinned at that when I realized the Duke had introduced them backwards, almost certainly on purpose. They both played wary, cautious games. I didn’t think either of them bluffed at all. Kevin was always making little jokes; he reminded me a little of a younger version of Ian Clarke. There wasn’t a player at the table, I thought, who gave away very much, not really.
I won a few hands, staying, I thought, pretty even. Kevin lost a little, Evan lost a little, Jill lost a little more. Linda was up, Duke was up, and I thought Jack was pretty close to even too.
Halfway through the second hour, I got the hang of poker, what trying out for the Olympics was for volleyball.
Seven-card stud with Duke dealing. My first two down cards were the two of hearts and the two of spades. My first up card was the Ace of hearts. I stayed in a round; with two hearts, a pair, and the start on a straight, it seemed worth it. My next card was the five of hearts, which got my heart pumping a little. Possible flush, possible straight flush.
I mentally took a deep breath, decided that getting a straight flush was about as likely as getting an Olympic tryout. I laughed at that, unable to keep that to myself. “What’s funny, Zim?” The Duke said, waving at my cards. “You got squat, unless you think you’re on your way to a straight flush.”
“About as likely as my trying out for the Olympics tomorrow.” I said with a nod, speaking what was on my mind.
The Duke laughed and laughed. “I like you, Zim! I do! I’m going to be paying a lot more attention to volleyball the next few weeks, you watch!”
Linda waved her coke my way. “Es Verdad? You are trying out for the Olympics?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“And this is funny?” Logan asked with a grin.
“It is if you know that in the last three days I’ve played six games of volleyball ... probably about as many as I’ve played in the rest of my life.”
“And you think that’s odd?” Logan asked quietly.
“Well, I do think it’s funny, strange,” I told him.
He waved towards the west. “Two years ago, I took on a student. A little tiny girl, five two, perhaps eighty pounds. Thirteen years old. Quiet, unremarkable except that of all of the other students I was to train that day, she did katas, training exercises in her spare time. I don’t know why I chose to evaluate her last; a foolish mistake. I asked her to punch as hard as she could. Right, left.” He laughed. “And that is funny because she nearly broke my wrists. She has hammers, not fists. She’d spent eight years, ten hours a day, chopping cordwood.”
I’d done that a time or two, even half an hour was too much for me.
“Right now, Sarah Grant is fifteen, a black belt of the seventh dan. She had that black belt three months after the first time she competed; and that first time she competed? She came in second in the California Women’s Open. Thirteen years old.”
“Let’s play cards,” Jack said, and the Duke remembered and dished out another round of cards. This time I got the jack of hearts. Poetic justice, I thought, poetic justice.
“Hope you do better tomorrow,” Evan said, a small smile on his face.
We were all still in, and Jack, to the Duke’s left, bet first. “Quarter.” Jill raised him a quarter, and Linda raised him a quarter. When it got around to me, on the Duke’s right, I put in my seventy-five cents, calling. The Duke had two aces showing and was the high hand. Jill had what looked like another small straight, as did Kevin. Logan had two sevens showing, and Linda had three spades to my three hearts up. In fact, when I looked, the only other heart showing was the four in Jill’s hand.
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