Immy and Dunk Ch. 01

1. All characters engaging in sex are 18+

2. No characters resemble real people

3. Enjoy the fiction

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CHAPTER 1

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This story starts on the day I met Emily.

Well, it really starts a few years before. The day of the accident.

I had been on vacation with family. I guess I had been fortunate to be invited, really. I could have been excluded. It wasn't my family. We were driving from Pennsylvania to Florida. I was sitting in the back of a mini-van with my girlfriend, Laura. Her older brother Mike and his wife Kelly sat up front. The middle row held Mrs. Jansen, Laura and Mike's mother, and Mike and Kelly's daughter, Imogene. At eight years old, she hated that name, and preferred to be called Immy.

We teased Laura a little, as Immy had inherited a lot of Jansen DNA, so she looked a lot like Laura when she'd been little - both blondes with green eyes - and not very much like brunette Kelly. I'd been dating Laura almost two years, and since she was very close with her family, I became close with them too. I hung out with Immy, playing games with her, and she started calling me Uncle Wes when I was visiting with her Aunt Laura.

We were in Georgia when tragedy struck. A semi truck crossed the median, and smashed our van head-on. Mike and Kelly were instantly killed. Mrs. Jansen died in her seat before the ambulances could arrive. Somehow, when they pried open the rest of the van, I was able to crawl out with scratches. I rode in the ambulance with Laura and Immy. Laura died that day, too much internal bleeding. Before she died, I showed her the engagement ring I'd had in my pocket. I had planned on proposing on the beach during sunset, but that would never happen now. She was unable to speak, but she smiled, and then closed her eyes for the last time. I cried over her body.

It took a nurse to come get me to stop. "Mr. Carson? Wesley?" I looked up. "I need to take you next door." She helped me up, and brought me to the next room, where Immy lay in a bed asleep. She was bruised and scratched but otherwise okay. The nurse told me she'd be fine, and asked if she had other family to call and notify. I shook my head. Aside from distant cousins, Immy's whole family was now dead.

When I pulled myself together, I had the nurse contact children's services. I told them that I'd put in the paper work to adopt Immy. I stayed by her side in the hospital until she was healed enough to leave. We cried together over her family. I told her I wanted her to live with me, and she hugged me and said that's what she wanted too.

--

Immy stayed with a foster family for a few weeks while the custody procedures took place, and I visited her as much as I was allowed. Her next-in-line blood relative was a great aunt Millie, the sister of Immy's grandmother, who lived across the country in California. I spoke to her on the phone and she agreed that I might be a better fit to be Immy's guardian. After that call, I got the official approval on the adoption.

When I pulled up at the foster family's house, Immy ran out the front door and grabbed me into her arms. The foster family had been kind, but I was her real family, and she loved me. I took her back to my apartment. It had been my bachelor pad, with two bedrooms and one bathroom. I had used the second bedroom as an office, but I cleared it out to set up as Immy's new bedroom.

Immy came up with a new word to describe me: Duncle. Dad-Uncle, she explained. Later on, Duncle Wes got shortened to Dunk. So I got used to being called Dunk when we were together. To me, she was my daughter-niece, but we couldn't think of a good abbreviation for that.

It would take some getting used to, having to take care of a kid with no real experience. I was an only child myself. My parents were able to help out where they could. They became very fond of Immy, especially my mom, who always wanted a grandchild; she just hadn't expected one quite so soon. I was only 23 at the time.

One blessing was my job. I worked with a construction crew, and my boss Jerry was sympathetic to my sudden situation. He'd been pushing me to get an electrician certification, as he needed one for the crew, but now with Immy, I decided to put that off. Jerry paid me enough, and helped make my hours flexible enough, that I was able to take suitable care of Immy.

We certainly weren't wealthy, but we weren't poor either. That was important, as children's services checked in on me a few times in that first year to make sure Immy was comfortable and happy. But since I wasn't making a bunch of money, we were still in the same small apartment. Immy helped out by doing a few household chores so I wouldn't have to worry about them. By the time she was eleven, she was doing the majority of the dishes, some vacuuming, and some of the laundry.

When Immy was 9, I caught her rooting around in my closet. I was irritated at the invasion of privacy until she held up the engagement ring. I had put it in a box and hidden it in the back of the closet, and I was not ready to look at it again. It had only been a year since the accident. I held Immy and told her about the ring, and we had a good cry together. Then, seeing as I had no one else to give it to, I put it on a necklace and gave it to Immy for her tenth birthday. My mom thought it was a little weird to give a diamond to a kid like that, but Immy assured me she'd only wear it on special occasions, and always keep it safe, as she knew how important it was.

So Immy and I worked things out. It was rough at first, especially when one or both of us broke into tears over our deceased loved ones. But somehow, through the tragedy, we had each other.

--

But, as I said, the real story begins when I met Emily, a few years later.

Immy grew up into a brilliant and pretty twelve-year-old. I had been dreading two awkward days at this age, and one had already happened a few months back, when I took her shopping for bras. The other, the 'woman's curse' situation, hadn't happened yet, but I knew it was on the horizon.

Immy had her friend Emily over for her 12th birthday, along with a few other girls. It wasn't a big party, just 5 girls watching movies for the afternoon and eating pizza. I wasn't wealthy, so I couldn't afford big, extravagant parties. We'd had dinner and cake with my parents a few days prior.

Emily, I learned, was Immy's best friend. The other girls called them Immy and Emmy, or sometimes Imily as a combination, and they were thick as theives. I sat in the kitchen, keeping out of the living room, but I could still listen in on them. By eavesdropping, I heard a little bit of their shenanigans from school.

The five of them were barely watching their movie, while postulating adults who they thought could be or should be dating. I tuned it out, as it was typical pre-teen drivel to my ears. Most of the conversation revolved around their teachers from school. My ears only perked up when Emily mentioned, "What about my mom and Immy's dad?" This was followed by some laughter, some oohs, and Immy saying, "What? No way. That's weird."

"What's wrong with it?" asked Emily.

"For one, your mom is way older than him."

"She's only 31, that's not that much older." I did the math in my head. Emily's mother would have been 19 when she had Emily. I was 27 now, having adopted Immy at 23, so I was 15 when Immy was born.

"Also, he's not really my dad."

"You know what I mean."

"Plus, he doesn't date."

Emily didn't have a comeback for that. It was true. I had not gone on a single date since the accident. The only woman I concerned myself with was Immy. I had also spent less time with my friends. It was part of the sacrifice of being a parent. They told me they missed me, but they understood, especially when they saw how closely Immy resembled a young Laura.

Apparently, me not dating ran that particular conversation into the ground, and the girls switched topics. But Emily's goofy quip, even though it didn't mean anything serious, made me start to think about it, and it made me feel a little lonely. Laura's death had left a hole in my life, and I had not given it any thought util today. Would it be okay to get back out there? Had it been long enough? Would Immy be okay with it?

--

After the party, Immy helped me clean up. "Thanks for letting me have my friends over, Dunk," she told me.

"Of course, Immy." Then I said to her, "Hey, I heard what Emily said earlier. About me dating."

"Oh god, you heard that?" Immy grimaced. "I'm sorry. Emily was just being weird."

"I get it. But it made me think. It's been four years, Immy. I'm not sure I'm completely ready for it, but what would you think about me dating again?"

She looked me up and down. "Well, we need to update your look, I think."

"What's wrong with my look?" I feigned offense.

"Nothing, I guess, it's just you're so... you're Dunk."

I didn't know what she was getting at. "What?"

"I mean, you're like, Dad-style. It's hard to picture you going out with a woman, dressed like that." She pointed at my jeans and hoodie.

"Well obviously I'd dress up a little more for a date."

She thought about it, then her eyes got wide and she grinned. "Can we get you a makeover?"

"What?"

"You know, fresh haircut, new clothes."

That wouldn't be too bad. I didn't have a ton of money for fancy clothes, but payday was this Friday, and I could maybe use a fresh look. "Okay. Let's go next weekend."

Immy hugged me. "This is going to be so much fun."

--

That Saturday, Immy and I went to a barber shop and she watched closely as I got a fresh haircut. When the barber finished, Immy nodded her approval, forcing him to chuckle.

Then we went to a department store that was having a decent sale, and picked up a few nice shirts, a new pair of pants, and a new belt. Immy convinced me that, although hoodies are very comfortable, they were not good for dressing up, so I bought some quarter-zip sweaters that she said looked better on me.

"How would you get a date?" Immy asked on the ride home. "Are you going to join one of those dating apps?"

I grimaced. "No, I don't think so. That always seems really impersonal. But I can't think of any other way." I pondered it for a minute. "Maybe I didn't think this through. Maybe I'm not ready after all."

Immy pointed out, "You could ask your friends."

"I guess so. Maybe they have experience with those apps?"

"That's not what I meant. I meant ask them if they know single women who'd be interested in you."

I laughed a little. "That sounds better, but imagine their sales pitch: 'Hey, you want to date my friend? He's got a crappy job, a small apartment, and a twelve-year-old daughter?'" I poked her in the shoulder at the last part.

"Hey, maybe I make you look good. Maybe there's a woman out there who thinks you're super responsible."

"Yeah?"

"Because you are, you know. I'm glad I'm with you."

"Me too, Imogene Jansen."

She frowned at me for calling her by her full name. "Okay, Duncle Wesley Carson."

--

As it happened, a friend did have a friend, and I got set up on a date with a woman named Erica. She was twenty-four, a bartender at a nearby bar. I got my parents to watch Immy for a night. She loved them, but decided to call them by their first names, Kim and Henry. She had told me that it didn't feel quite right to call them grandpa and grandma, which I understood. They were only in their late forties, and didn't look like grandparents anyway.

I hadn't been on a first date in six years. I thought back to my last first date, with Laura. We had been in college, both 21. We'd gone to a bar, and we drank beer and split an order of cheese fries. It was simple, and we hit it off so easily. I missed how easy that was. The thought of going out now just made me nervous.

I met Erica at a restaurant. She was a brunette, hair cut short, just past her ears. She was fun and cute. Her dress was low-cut, showing off nice cleavage. I thought she was very attractive. She grinned as she poked fun at me for ordering a soft drink with dinner. "You don't like beer?"

I shrugged. "I haven't had an urge to drink any alcohol since I adopted Immy."

She told me about how much she loved her bartending job, as she met interesting people and had lots of stories of late-night experiences. She was sexy and fun and had a fascinating, adventurous life.

I found she'd been told only a little about me. "So tell me about your adopted daughter," she asked.

"Well, her name is Imogene but she goes by Immy, and she just turned 12," I said.

Erica's jaw dropped. "12? When I first heard you had a daughter, I thought she'd be younger. How do you keep up?"

I told her the brief version of how we came together. "I'm all she's got, so we make it work. She's actually super mature for her age, I think. She helps out around the house."

Erica was interested in stories about Immy, and I think she was attracted to me, but at the end of the date, she admitted something I had guessed would happen. "I like you, Wes. If it was just you, I think we could have some fun together. But, to be honest, I think you're looking for more than a girlfriend. I'm not ready to be a step-mom."

I nodded. "Yeah. It's okay. I mean, I'm willing to go one date at a time, but I get it if you're not into it."

"Sorry," said Erica. She kissed my cheek, and whispered in my ear. "But, I do think you're cute. If you've got the time, we can go back to my place."

I considered it. Erica was really hot, and I was very tempted. I knew it wasn't a very good idea, but I decided I needed a little attention. "I've got some time. Where's your place?"

She had a little one-bedroom apartment a couple blocks away. When we got in the door, she threw herself at me, kissing me with a passion. I stopped her, saying, "It's been a long time. I might not last."

"Let's make it count, then," she said. She unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. I took in the view of her hot body in her bright pink lacy bra and panty set. She led me back to her bedroom, where she went to work on my belt and pants. When she got them open, she slid my pants and boxers down to bring my dick out. "Ooh," she said, "this is nice."

Kneeling down, she took it in her mouth and gave it a lick, and I shuddered. I told her, "Ohhh, it's been a long time since someone's done that for me." She took it deeper into her mouth and worked it up and down a little, until I made her stop. "I won't last long if you keep it up. Let me taste you instead."

She stood and took off her bra. Her nipples stood out from her body, ready for attention. I cupped her breasts in my hands and kissed her again, teasing each nipple with my fingers. When I'd given them enough time, I led her back to the bed. She sat and let me remove her panties. She was completely shaved, with a tiny heart tattoo about an inch above and to the left of her flower. I kissed on the inside of her right thigh, trying to remember some of the skills I'd honed with Laura. She used to love it when I went down on her, so I hoped I wasn't too rusty. I switched to Erica's left thigh, and it made her squirm. She told me with a smile, "Come on, quit teasing me!"

I went in to her center and gave her a nice, long lick, and it made Erica gasp. "Yes, right there," she said. I worked my magic, licking her, then parting her lips with my tongue and tasting her inside, then paying extra attention to her clit. My chin was wet with her juices, but I kept right on going until I made her cum. "That's it, yes, YES! YES!" she finally shouted when she reached her peak.

I stood above her, rubbing my cock on her slit. "Do I need a rubber?" I asked, glad I thought ahead in the heat of the moment.

She shook her head, "No, I'm on the pill, we're good. Fuck me, Wes."

I pushed in just a bit, and had to hold myself there to avoid cumming so quick. She was young and tight, but she was so wet, and I was able to slip in the rest of the way. "Ohh," I said, moving slowly inside her, "It's been so long."

Erica responded, "I know, baby, keep going, you're doing fine." I kept up a slow rhythm, still getting used to doing this again, until I had gained enough composure and confidence to go faster. I was glad Erica seemed so patient with me; another woman might have been frustrated at my hesitation.

I worked in and out of Erica, and she gave little moans of approval, little words of encouragement throughout, "That's it, keep going, little more." I felt like I was getting much closer to climaxing than she was, so I needed a position change. I pulled out of her and nudged her hips to get her to flip over. "Oh, yes, that's the spirit, she said, wiggling her cute ass at me. With my confidence rebuilt, I slipped back inside and started fucking her a little harder than before. Then I reached a hand down and started rubbing her clit. That got her attention. She got a little louder then, telling me, "Yes, Yes, more! Pound me, fuck me!"

I slammed myself into her until I couldn't take much more. "I'm... I'm getting close."

"Me too, baby, cum inside me, it's okay. So close!"

I sped up the action of my fingers on her clit, determined to bring her along with me. Finally, I couldn't hold out anymore. "Gonna... cum!" I groaned, and shot my load into her. It was amazing, all that pent up physical energy released, as I unloaded four years worth of jizz into this willing, sexy young woman, screaming in her own climax.

I laid beside her in bed for a few minutes, savoring the moment. "Thank you," I told her. "This was what I needed. This was my first time in years, and you were so patient and understanding."

She kissed me on the cheek. "Of course. I could tell you needed a little release. Everybody does now and then, otherwise they go crazy. And you were good. I'm sure you'll be amazing with practice."

I looked at the clock, seeing it was past 10:00 already. "I should go. I have to pick up my daughter. But thanks again." I got up and started finding my discarded clothes.

"Wes, thank you. And good luck out there, finding your Miss Right. You deserve it."

--

"How'd it go?" asked Immy when I picked her up.

"Pretty well." I left it vague. There was no way she needed to know the sordid details.

"So you're going out again?"

"Probably not."

"Why not?"

I sighed. "She's younger, she's not ready to settle down, but she could tell I am."

"You mean I scared her off."

"No," I said with emphasis, wanting to be clear that Immy was not the problem. "You did not scare her off. I did. You're right, I'm a total Dunk."