Captain Zim
Copyright© 2025 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 8
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 8 - 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
Downstairs, Sean and Diane were standing just outside the hotel. Diane waved. “We were thinking about calling you.” She grimaced. “The hotel staff know all the locals; they really don’t like us coming into the hotel. Too much hanky-panky is bad for their image.”
“Sorry,” CC said, “I was running late. David’s been up for hours.” I thought there was a gleam of mirth in CC’s eyes; I really didn’t need this, I thought. I really don’t.
“Well, CC, you ready?” Diane asked, and CC nodded. They went down to the water’s edge, did some stretches, then headed out.
“Not going?” Sean said with a laugh.
“No. I can do a mile; I can do two miles. Then I’m done.”
He laughed. “You have to swim a mile to be a lifeguard. Diane likes to think she is twice as good as any of us.”
“She’s certainly prettier,” I told him, and Sean laughed.
“Zim, buddy, there’s no one prettier on the planet. CC is nice, mind you, and you don’t need to go telling her what I said about my sister, but yeah, Diane is something else.”
He smiled at my expression. “Not that CC’s not something wonderful, too.”
“I can’t disagree,” I told him.
“I really like CC,” Sean told me, his eyes on the girls. “I don’t know how to describe it. I see a zillion girls every day. After a while, it’s just overload. You stop seeing them. Maybe once in a while you see a great set of tits, some nice legs. I don’t often look at their faces. Everyone notices Diane’s face though.”
“Oh yeah!” I agreed.
“CC, well, with CC, the first thing I saw was CC. The whole girl. There is something about her that just grabs me.”
I remembered CC’s hand on me; I swallowed. “Yeah.”
“And you, Zim, you’re the same way.” He paused, “Diane told me last night that your folks have money.”
“CC and I do too; but it’s in trust funds and all of that, and we can’t do much but look at the statements until we’re older. But ... yes.”
“After Dad died, Mom lost it. It tore her up; broke her spirit. She went way downhill, Zim. All the way. Booze, drugs. Whatever she had to do to get them.”
“God, I’m sorry, Sean.”
“On good days, we lived in a shelter. Bad days ... we were lucky to have a cardboard box. We lived under overpasses, in bushes alongside the road. For nearly two years, we didn’t go to school.”
I stared at him, unable to imagine life like that.
“Mainly I remember being hungry, Zim. I never had enough to eat. Sometimes at night, Diane would cry and cry ... I’d hold her and talk to her, tell her that someday things would get better.
“One day, Mom tried to sell Diane to some wino, for two dollars.”
I thought I’d been grossed out before; a minute ago, an age ago, when CC told me about Rickie and Julio. When I saw them grab her.
Sean clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw taut with anger. “I took Diane, went to the last shelter we’d been at. Begged them to take us in, to save Diane.
“They did. It was a Catholic shelter. They put us back in school, let us stay together. There was talk of a foster home. Two days later, Mom came in. She’d dried out as best she could, stopped the drugs. Washed her face, washed her clothes.
“She’d come, she told me, to beg my forgiveness, but mainly to beg Diane to forgive her. The nuns and priests, they were big on that. Still, I didn’t trust her and Diane wouldn’t even talk to her at first. But they let Mom in and put her in a treatment program.
“It was true, Zim. She’d hit bottom. Then she looked around and decided that she’d screwed up. And she was sorry, and didn’t want that kind of life anymore. So far as I know, she doesn’t do anything, hasn’t, since I ran away with Diane.
“After a while, they helped Mom finish up her BA, Mom got a teaching certificate. She’d never been busted, somehow; there’s nothing official in her records. Now she teaches eighth grade, trying to make a difference for kids like Diane and me, helping and helping.”
“We don’t live in a box anymore, no more shelters. It’s a small apartment not far from where Mom teaches, about ten miles from here. I sleep on the couch. Mom and Diane share the same room. Each night, each and every night, Mom gets down on her knees next to Diane and prays to God for forgiveness for what she did to Diane, then asks Diane to forgive her.
“I pray too, Zim, but I give thanks for what we’ve got.”
I met his eyes. “I’m not after CC’s money, David. Please, please don’t ever think that.”
Oh, I said to myself, that was what he was concerned about.
“Our parents,” I told him, “raised us. We know about money, we know about how most people think about it.
“I can’t explain it, Sean. It’s like trying to explain color to a blind person. It’s just different for us. But I’ll tell you one thing, one true thing: we usually can tell when someone is more interested in money than us. Ten thousand little things give people like that away. CC trusts you, Sean. She likes you too. You don’t have to apologize, you don’t have to tell her your life story ... not because she might think you’re after something other than her body. Tell her, but don’t be apologetic.
“Life, Mom says, has bumps. Money smoothes some, but makes others bigger. Dad’s big on the idea that it’s how you deal with the bumps that tells you who you are, shows others who you are. Deal with the bumps you can’t avoid, Sean, don’t go out of your way to make them.”
Sean punched my arm. “Zim, you’re a prince! If you’d asked me at the beginning of the week that I would tell someone about Mom and that it would be someone Diane’s age, I’d have laughed in your face. I’m not laughing, Zim. You’re a good guy. Thanks, Zim.”
“Talk, Sean,” I said with a laugh. “I’m that sweet-talking brother of CC’s.”
I nodded, out to where the girls were resting, before coming back in. Odds were, they were talking; I wondered what they were saying. “CC likes you, Sean. A lot. You don’t have to worry about it,”
He grinned. “And Diane is stone cold in love with you, Zim. I tell you true, she’s got it bad.”
They had started to swim back, and Sean nodded. “Come on, let’s go meet them.”
We hit the water; like everyone else on the planet, Sean could swim a lot faster than me. After about a hundred yards, he looked back, saw me about twenty-five yards back. He waited until I caught up. “You really are a turtle, Zim.”
“Sorry,” I told him. I saw him looking at me; I’d never seen a boy look at me like Sean was. After a second, I saw him lift out of the water, look around. “Follow me.” He muttered, and started swimming. Another two hundred yards at an angle from the girls, the sea turned a funny color. Sean stopped swimming, I saw him grin, and stand up. He was chest deep; when I put my feet down, I was shoulder deep.
The swells nearly lifted me off my feet as each passed. “This is called the ‘weenie roost,’” Sean said, “It’s not always here; depends on what the weather and tides are like.”
I was tempted to ask about the name, but it seemed clear enough. You could rest, and to someone on shore, it looked like you were in deep water.
Sean reached out, touched my arm, pulling me a little closer. “A lot of people come out here, Zim, because no one can see what’s going on underwater.” He laughed, “A lot of weenies get pulled out here.”
I blushed; more so when I realized Sean still had his hand on my arm.
“You need to loosen up, Zim. You know why you can’t swim for shit?”
I shook my head. “You don’t have the extension you should. You need to start stretching. You exercise some, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I told him, wondering why he was still holding my arm. Sean didn’t look ... like that ... I sure wasn’t! I was imagining things.
“This afternoon, during my break, I’ll show you some stretching exercises. Diane knows a bunch too, but a lot of the exercises are gender-specific. What works for girls, doesn’t work for guys, if you know what I mean.”
I nodded, but I really wasn’t sure what he meant. His grip firmed on my arm, and I saw him looking past me. I turned and saw Diane and CC were about three hundred yards away, heading towards us. I relaxed a bit, and I heard Sean laugh, almost inaudible.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.