Captain Zim
Copyright© 2025 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 3
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 3 - 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 lost track of things after that; life would have been very different had I paid attention to what Sean had said and done my usual fade before athletic endeavors were in the offing.
Later, I heard someone call my name. I looked up and saw Sean waving at me. I got up, then realized that there was a girl at his chair. I nearly stopped because I was seriously considering turning and running.
She had to be his sister, I thought. Had to be. She was five-six, with straw blonde hair like Sean; only her hair was really short, in curly ringlets that held tightly to her head. A pleasant, round face perfectly suited to her hair.
She was wearing a relatively modest two-piece suit, light blue. Nice legs, nice waist, small breasts. Easily the most beautiful girl I’d ever met in my entire life. “Zim, this is my sister Diane. Diane, this is David Zimmerman. Zim.”
She held out her hand like her brother had done, and I took it. “Hi,” she said. I have no idea what I replied; it was a gargle.
“Zim and his sister are going to play volleyball with us in a bit,” Sean went on after we’d been introduced.
I tried to stand straighter, trying to think about what a volleyball jock would look like.
“Cool,” Diane said, then waved at the water. “I’m going to get wet.”
She hit the water looking like CC; swam like her too. Diane cut a straight line out away from shore, moving fast.
From above me, I heard Sean chuckle. “Turn about is fair play, Zim.”
I looked at him, then back to Diane. “Sean, Diane is so far out of my league...” I shook my head.
He laughed harder. “You’d never think it to look at her, but she’s not that fond of people, particularly guys. Actually, most people stink, so far as Diane is concerned. Mom calls her ‘Princess Di.’ But I know my sister, Zim. I know her. So, don’t give it up just yet. She’s not going out with anyone ... and never has more than once, and not many of those.”
“That’s encouraging,” I muttered to myself.
“There’s a first time for everything,” Sean said, and then added, “and unto everything there is a time.”
I went back to my blanket; reading was just as impossible as it had been all day. What in the world would I do with someone like Diane, even if she liked me? We were going to be here two weeks, and then we were going to move on. Odds were, I’d never see her again. That didn’t sound like a good idea to me, and I doubt if Diane would be wild about it either.
I glanced up at Sean. There was no longer any doubt in my mind, not any more. He was interested in my sister. My sister who just graduated from 8th grade. I live with CC, Sean. A year ago, she didn’t have breasts at all; now they are growing, but she’s small. Really small. I sighed.
OK, Sean was interested in CC. She had been withdrawn and antisocial since Julio and what’s his name, Ricky Galvin, grabbed her. As long as Sean didn’t hurt her, should I care?
I laughed at myself. What had I been thinking a few seconds ago about Sean’s sister? That leaving in a few weeks wasn’t exactly a nice future. It’s a train wreck, about to happen. And what, David Zimmerman, is your responsibility in all of this?
As I thought that, Diane came out of the water, heading for her towel. I mentally gulped; gosh, she’s pretty! Was even a few days with someone like that worth trying for? I decided then and there, I wasn’t going to give up easily; Sean had been right. Why not try? What would it hurt?
Shortly, Sean appeared, and I followed him to a spot about a quarter mile down the beach where there was a fair crowd, most of them high school-age kids. Both CC and Diane were there already, talking to each other, part of the crowd milling on the sand.
Sean simply walked over to the net and looked around. “I’m the captain of the lifeguards. Today, it’s our first regular volleyball game of the summer. I’m the captain of one team, and yes, I’m a flagrant nepotist: Diane is the captain of the other team. At the end of the game, I’ll pick a captain for the next game, and Diane will too. The rule is that you can’t pick anyone that’s already been a captain in the last week or so. Since I am far superior to Diane in just about every way...” Diane flipped him a bird, and everyone laughed. “I get to pick first.”
He waved at me. “Zim, there.”
I almost had a stroke. All my life, I was either chosen last for a team or not chosen at all; being picked first was something I’d never imagined. Then Diane waved at CC, picking her. I considered the odds that that was a coincidence to be like zero. So, who was doing whom a favor? Where and how had Diane met CC?
Pretty soon, they really did get down to the last person; each team had nine players, mixed genders, and ages. Later, I found out the rules were that you had to evenly balance genders, too. When we started, Sean waved me to stand next to him, and I found myself in the back row to Sean’s left. He served up the ball, and we got down to volleyball.
Sean’s first serve was batted back towards the ocean side of the net, and a guy there popped it up to us, and someone on our side slapped it back where Diane’s teammate bobbled it, and it was a point for us.
Sean’s next serve was right to Diane, and she set it up nicely for a big guy on her front line, who spiked it hard into the sand, without anyone on our side laying a hand on it.
The other side started moving around, and Sean glanced at me. “I’ve never beaten Diane in two years at this. That girl competes like there is no tomorrow; she never gives up! That guy with the spike is Phil Cunningham; he’s never returned one of his spikes. It would be nice to win.”
Diane served, and Sean took it, set it up, and someone hit it over to the other side, and whap! The ball was sitting in the dirt on our side again, faster than you could blink, Cunningham again.
Sean spoke dryly, loudly this time. “That’s Phil Cunningham, you might want to keep the ball away from him if you can.”
I looked at Phil, he was tall and blonde, like nearly all of the boys out here, except for a few Hispanic-looking dudes. Phil was a little older, I thought, probably college. He wore the standard beach uniform of guys, bathing trunks and a T-shirt.
I looked at the rest of the people playing. All high school age, or thereabouts. I thought you had to be a teenager, that was the rule. Well, I was close. You had to be thirteen to play, but the older kids had jobs, families ... and were elsewhere in the middle of the day in the middle of the week.
Diane served it up to Sean again, and this time he set it up for me. I hit it to the corner furthest from Cunningham, and the girl there bobbled the ball and it was our turn to move.
With sudden apprehension, I realized it was my serve. Sure, I’d done this in school, grade school, a couple of times. I mentally blanked out all my fears, just served it nice and easy, hitting it, I thought, hard enough to get to the other side of the net and not embarrass myself totally.
Just enough, it turned out. The ball was maybe an inch beyond the net, and the defender missed it entirely, and the ball plopped onto the sand, making a small crater and not even bouncing. Two to one, our favor.
I decided that hey, if it worked once, maybe the second time would be charming. I did exactly the same thing; I swear the ball landed in the crater the first shot had left. Diane had something sarcastic to say to the defender there, while I got the ball back.
I was nervous, more nervous than I could ever recall. As a result, even as the ball left my hand, I knew I’d done it wrong. Before the ball had been centered on my fist, this time it was off to the left, and this time I’d hit it a little harder than before. The ball went diagonally, coming down in front of Diane, but again right up close to the net. She at least reached it, but the ball came up on the wrong side of the net. Four to one. There was laughter and banter back and forth; I could think about just one thing, and one thing only: hit the ball over there and get it over with.
I was so wrapped up, I didn’t see Diane wave everyone forward; this time I hit the ball for all I was worth ... it sailed over CC’s head, and she turned and sprinted, hit it for all she was worth ... only it kept going in the direction it had been going, landing about fifty feet further from the net.
Sean called from the front line, “Nice shot, Zim! Way nice!” There were cheers from the other people on my team.
I stood there, waiting for CC to fetch the ball back, contemplating people cheering for me. Never before in my life had anyone applauded me; it was the strangest, oddest sensation I could imagine. It wasn’t polite applause, or sarcastic applause; it was a group of people spontaneously praising something I’d done. I didn’t have a clue on how to deal with it.
Then I had the ball again, and for the first time I looked across the net, saw the arrayed defenders. Intimidating, I thought. On the other hand, I’d rolled off four straight points. I remembered the line from Han Solo to Luke in the first Star Wars movie about overconfidence. I turned slightly and served again.
This time the ball dropped right into the middle of their middle line; like a pig in a school of piranhas. The ball came back, going to Sean, who set it up for the girl next to him, a girl taller than either of us, tall and raven-haired. She spiked the ball as hard as Cunningham had, and no one on the other side could stop it.
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