Not Just Another Walk In The Park 1

[As with all of my stories on here, All Rights are Reserved by the Author, except for the (limited) rights given herein to Literotica.]

I live in Los Angeles, but I'm originally from the East Coast, and one of the things I miss the most living here, is the lack of greenery. Oh, there's plenty of greenery if you like over-watered lawns and palm trees, but I mean the real kind. Parks everywhere. That kind. And don't get me wrong, there are parks here, just not the kind of lush ones that are back East.

But one of my favorite parks to go to is called Temescal Canyon, off of Sunset on the West Side. It's one of the canyons that are here and there, that have lots of trees on the lower portions (closer to sea level), but as you hike up them become mostly scrub and desert plants and not trees.

Temescal is slightly different, in that it has not only a nice variety of trees and foliage, but when it rains, has a nice set of waterfalls and creeks running through it. It's not lush like the East Coast, but it doesn't seem like it's in the high desert either.

————————

I had been walking along for a while, down in the greener parts of the park, while watching all of the younger groups of kids passing me by, disappearing in the distance ahead of me. I was constantly amazed at all the youth that were present on these trails, marching intently along. All the barely clothed girls that grabbed my eyes and didn't want to let them go. fodder for fantasies later, I would sigh.

And then there were the occasional older folks, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in groups, where there were women looking like they were in their forties or fifties, that would storm past me, not looking back.

Now, I may be old. And I'm not the most handsome man around, much less a movie star. And yes, I do have a "few pounds on me," but I'm not drastically overweight. But a lot of the women that I see these days that I would be looking to go out with, are mostly these high-maintenance, high expectation women of a certain age, who are looking for men to take care of them (and not looking for a man to 'take care of'). Forbid you can't keep up with them.

I had slowed down while I was still in the more forested areas of the downhill slope (before the trail took a sharp steep upward trend). I allowed for all of the other people to pass me by as I ambled.

I had just gotten to an area where a small stream wended its way downhill, that during the dry season was only the remnant of a mere former creek-bed (that maybe, sort of, kind of) had a little water flowing down it (if you were lucky). If there had been a good rain recently (like there had been), it flowed along quite merrily. Lucky for me, that was the case today.

I stopped there watching the water flow over rocks and stream, when a lone girl suddenly walked past me, dragging an old hound dog along behind her struggling to keep up, but who was wagging her tail happily nonetheless.

At first glance, this girl looked to be all of seventeen or maybe eighteen.

What was she doing hiking alone in a big park like this

? I wondered. Her old hound dog wasn't going to be any good in helping to fight off any man she might meet here who was intent on doing her harm (unless I was severely mistaken).

But she was not a slender girl, either. She had her dirty blond hair high up on either side of her head in pigtails. And while she was not dressed in the skimpy track wear that most of the other girls wore out here, had cut off jeans that were not quite Daisy Dukes, and a tye-died halter on top.

She was dressed kind of hippy-ish (which was plus points in my book), and she had somewhat broad hips, too. ("I'm a 'hippy'," said a former girlfriend who once described herself as being that because she also had wide hips.) And from what I could see as she walked determinedly past me, she didn't look like she was most guys would consider 'stacked' in the breasts although she wasn't flat-chested either, but was a "big girl" matching her hips.

I must have let my gaze linger just a little too long on her, because she stopped and turned to look back at me, a quirky kind of smirk on her face. That's when I also noticed her "headlights were on" — large thimble-like nipples.

She also had big Janis Joplin-like circular glasses on, and a somewhat roundish face to pull it off with. And I also noticed, somewhat large "doe-like" eyes, although that may have just been her glasses.

I quickly turned my head to look away at a tree, feeling suddenly like a dirty old man, and then looked back, expecting she'd be gone. But she wasn't.

She was still looking over her shoulder, with that curious and delightful smirk on her face. She gave me a wink, and I coughed nervously, like I was a kid that got caught shop-lifting, and tried to look away again.

But I couldn't help myself. I tried to say something, but then heard in my head, "robbing the cradle," and turned to walk in a different direction. Off the trail and into the woods, where I had intended to go anyway.

She's a fantasy

, I told myself, as I quickly felt my rapidly engourging prick enlarging past my comfort level in my pants. I needed to find a 'quiet place' in which to stroke myself off and relieve that tension. Which was what I had also

intended

to do, even before I saw her.

When I had walked sufficiently off the trail and through the brush and trees, I found a nice patch of grass and mossy ground to sit in. Without (what I thought was) fear of interruption, I pulled my shorts down and sat down on a mossy stone by the creek. I grabbed my 'bull' by it's only 'horn,' and began 'wrestling' with it. Hard.

That fantasy that I had just seen looking at me on the trail, came back into my head. I remembered those round hips in those jeans, and then when she turned around, those 'headlights' popping their existence through that halter. I fantasized tugging those shorts off, and untying that halter revealing those headlights for me to nuzzle and chew on, when—

All of a sudden... "Well, hello!" said a golden perky voice that made me jump. Looking up, there was the Cute Girl from the trail, just standing there. How long had she been watching me jerking off?

"Holy shit!" I said, standing and trying to get my pants back up as quick as I could.

"Oh, there's no need to do that!" she said, once more in that little girlish perky voice. Her dog just quirked her head and sat down beside her. "Thinking of me?" she asked with a sound of innocence that had a heavy dose of guile just behind it.

"But," I said, decidedly nervous again. "I'm sorry. I don't want to get into trouble."

She smiled at me, and then proceeded to unbuckle the large buckle of her belt, unsnapped and unzipped those shorts and then pulled them and her panties down. She reached behind her and untied the halter, let it drift down to fall off her body and join her shorts below. "There. Is that better?" she laughed lightly.

Oh, my God

, I thought.

Did I black out and this is some kind of hallucination

?

I saw her nicely full bouncy b-cup breasts and those now much larger thimble sized nipples, along with her large powder puff of curly darker brown hair below her belly. Her 'lower' lips were just barely peeking out, and noticing that, so was my tongue.

"Um," I hesitated to ask, "But — and I know women don't like men asking their age — but," I repeated, biting back my question...

"I'm thirty-two," she said, with a sweet smile. "I only look like I'm seventeen." And then she tilted her head ever so slightly and gave me a sweet, but goofy grin. "And besides, you're only like, what? Forty? forty-five? So you're not really that much—"

Well, I was going to lose her now. "I'm sixty-two," I told her, and waited for the backlash. I prepared myself for her to quickly get her clothes back on, grab her dog's leash, and flee.

Then I saw her chew her lower lip for a few long seconds longer, but she didn't turn and flee. Instead, she finally said, "Well, you don't look it." She dipped her head down a little, and took on a sultry, and very much

not

little girl look. "And I like what I saw."

I know I probably had a really stupid look on my face, but I squeaked, "You did?"

She stepped out of her shorts where they lay, and came over and began kneeling on the ground right in front of me. She pulled my flag pole out of where it had become entangled in my shorts, and then pulled those shorts down and around my knees, and then off. "Yes," she said, with a curiously older look now seething out of her eyes and an even more sultry look on her smile.

She spread her legs further apart, to give me a good view and leaned in and ran her finger up the underside of my now quite erect prick, which gave me a shiver. "See?" she said, and then leaned in further to whisper in my ear, "I'm not exactly a virgin." And then she laughed and added, "I only play one on TV."

She leaned in even further, and placing her hands on both side of my hips, and knee-walked herself into my lap, a mere inch away from impaling herself on me.

"You do like me, don't you... mister?" she said, returning to that little girl pout from before. And then smiling that sultry look once more, "Because I can make you feel like you do, if you're still—" and rubbing her glistening slit up my the underside of my now throbbing steel rod added, " Undecided."

My breathing was now in race horse mode. My God, this was so definitely

not

an 'innocent child,' like she had appeared to be back on the trail. This was

definitely

a woman, and my heart was beating a mile a minute.

"Isn't your dog likely to run away?" I asked, staring into those big eyes.

"Oh, no. She won't run away." And then turning to address the dog, said, "Berties a good girl. Aren't you Bertie?" At which, the dog answered with another head tilting and a not too loud, "Yip!"

Returning her attention to me. "Do you want me to stroke your 'lollypop,' mister? I'll get it nice and wet."

"You're already doing that," I said in a whisper. And then it occurred to me, "And I don't even know your name."

"You don't watch too much TV, now, do you?"

I shook my head slowly, side to side.

She leaned all the way in to my ear, and whispered, "Bernadette."

"Eric," I whimpered to her.

"Hello, Eric." she said, and without warning continued her knew walk up fully and when in place, slid her now dripping wet slit up the underside of my pole, and then instead of drawing it back down to my base, tilted her hips forward and popped it into her velvet interior. Sliding it slowly down, inch by inch to my sharp intake of "Oh, God!"

When she had bottomed out fully and was now fully on my lap, I felt myself hitting her cervix, she asked knowingly, "Is that too much for you?"

Beyond hesitation now, I wrapped my arms around her waist, and moving my hands up to place them on her shoulder blades, drove myself up and in and clamped my mouth on hers, as we began frantically kissing.

We began humping each other, her drawing herself up to the tip of my throbbing prick, and me rising up to meet her downward thrust with our first thunderous clap of connection of flesh. We began riding each other, more and more desperately, any thoughts of her innocence and too young age long gone now. We slapped thunderously at each contact, to the point where I was afraid that we'd draw an audience from the trail.

Smack after smack after smack, thunder rolling through her hills and and up that valley of tit flesh and their twin (now) high-beams.

Her moaning and whimpers combined with my groans and "Oh, God"s to sound like a rain was drenching the forest around us. "I'm... COMMMMING," she cried, and then said, "COME With ME!"

And then we did. Me blasting inside her, pump after pump after pump of my baby-making juice, colliding with her obviously drenching juices raining down on me from her insides.

After a few minutes of our collective huffing and a-puffing, our hearts began beating slower and I felt her rest quite comfortably on my lap. I leaned back a little and looked into her eyes, her glasses now cocked slanted and almost barely on her face. The look of lust in them was fighting a look of awe, and... more?

I reached up and gently began pulling on her ponytails, pulling them side to side like winks or a set of flashing railroad lights. "No, you're nowhere as innocent as I first thought you were. But is this like a one time thing for you? Am I just your afternoon plaything?"

She pulled away, and gave me a satisfied grin, running her hand through my hair now. "Oh, you insecure old man, you. Do I need to be Karen Carpenter singing, 'We've only just begun?"

Getting off of me and standing, she walked over to the creek and squatting there, cupped her hand together for a scoop, and using the creek water cleaned her canal up. With water dripping like her juices from her now obviously larger than a virgin lips, she looked back at me and grinned a lascivious grin.

Cupping her hand into the water for more and bringing it back to me, said, "Let's wash that sexy smell off of you." The waster was cold when it hit, even though it was hot outside. And instead of calming my erection, it had the opposite effect.

"Let's not get you too excited again just yet," she said, and gripped the head just on the other side of my 'helmet,' and I watched the blood stop pumping and my hard on get less hard.

This — girl — knows what she's doing

, I thought in awe.

She shook her hips like a dog, letting the water still between her legs splash away like a dog does after a bath, and reached down to recover her shorts and top. I watched as she did all of this, as she stood, looking at me like the real Janis Joplin, before coming over and putting out her hand to help this 'old man' up.

After I had my clothes on as well, she grabbed my hand and said, "My place. Now that we've had our little outdoors thang. Although this was really nice. We'll have to do this again sometime," she said with a wink.

Clapping her hand, "Come on, Miss Bertie," and the dog got up and walked over to join her.

"That's a very well trained dog," I told her.

"No. She's just an old soul hound, that's all." Then grabbing for my hand, she nodded back in the direction of the trail. "Did you drive?"

"Yes, I'm parked on Sunset. You?"

"No. I live just up the street. That was going to be Bertie's and my walk for the day. But you can drive us there if you like."

"Ok," I answered hesitantly. "Are you really an actress on TV?"

"Yeah, Although if you aren't into Kids TV, it's not like you would have watched me. Do you have any?"

"You mean, like children?"

"Yes," she said with that smirk on her face again. "Children."

"No. Never had any interest in having children. Was never with a woman long enough that I considered I was with someone that wanted them." Then something struck me, "Um, we didn't use any protection." Her questions about children all of a sudden—

"Don't need to. Had my tubes tied at eighteen. Didn't want to take any chances, you know, with some fo the Hollywood types and the child stars and all. All I've ever wanted to be is an actress."

We hadn't gone more than another few hundred yards down the trail, when I hear a cacophonous chorus of "BERNADETTE!" coming from half a dozen or so teens now running towards us.

"Uh, shit. Here comes the hordes," she whispered under her breath, along with, "And meet my 'Beckyville' persona."

Letting her hand drop out of mine, I saw her stiffen up and that big smile popped back on her face that I first saw. We were suddenly in a sea of raging and giddy teenaged female hormones, and I was getting my first taste of her stardom.

After signing just about everything that this screaming group of teens could find to sign, one of them asked her, "Oh, is this your father?"

To which she turned and smirked again, and turned to her "adoring public," and said, "No. Just a friend of mine. That's all!" and made to turn to continue said, Well, Thanks for being my Fans! Y'all!" And the screaming 'horde' jumped excitedly up and down and continued (also excitedly) up the trail, with occasional looks and peeks back at us.

Sighing and looking tired all of a sudden, she said without turning towards me, "Sorry, but we can't hold hands again till we get back to my place." She said this sighing and looking back to see whether the "horde" had actually 'vanished' or not. "The dangers of a public persona. We need to be more careful."

I was dumbstruck with all of this. "How old do they think you are?"

"Ummmmm," she said, and did the twirling "little girl" thing again innocently with her hips. "Seventeen."

"Holy shit. You weren't kidding."

Turning suddenly and jumping in front of me, she stopped me dead. "A lot of 'child stars' are actually in their twenties and thirties. We only 'play' teenagers in TV and films."

That's when it also struck me. "Is that what the pigtails are for? I just realized that you look like—"

"Yes. One of the Actresses from Game of Thrones. Who is actually my age. Hence the pigtails. My disguise. Oh, and the glasses. They're not really real."

"So when you go on these hikes, why don't you just go, like, incognito?"

"I usually do. I forgot today."

"And your real name is not actually Bernadette," I said, not sure that I wanted to know.

"Oh, yes. That part is true. Just not my last name."

"Which is?"

"Roqescu. My family's Gypsy. Romanyee," she pronounced. "And my mother named me after Bernadette Peters, because she wanted me to be as big of a star as her idol."

Hmmm. Curiouser and curiouser.

"We got to my car, and I walked around to the passengers side and clicked open the doors. Helping her into the car, I opened the back seat for "Miss Bertie" to climb in.

While driving away, the now very adult Bernadette turned to me and said, "There's a few things that you need to know about me."

Ok

, I thought.

Here it comes. The Conditions.

"While I'm not a big star... I'm not a small one either. I've sort of become like the second coming of Hannah Montana. And like Miley, before she separated herself from her childhood persona, I have to maintain

my

persona. That means that I have to remain like a seventeen year old in the public eye, even though I'm in my thirties and so definitely

not

a child anymore." And then she turned to wink lusciously at me again, "As you saw there, back in the woods."

Most

definitely.

"So if you and I are going to be a 'thing,' and I'm hoping that's what is going to happen, it has to remain in private. At least for now. And you need to know that— SHIT! Turn left here!"

So I did. Even though she had told me her address, and it was right up the street.

"What the—"

"Paparazzi," she said. "There was a whole mess of paparazzi, or as I call them papa Ratzies... Outside of my building. Sorry, but I couldn't let them see us together." And then quickly, "Turn right here, and stop."

We were in a back alleyway. It seemed like any other normal back alleyway in this part of town. but hey, what the hell did I know anymore.

She visibly relaxed, and directed me, "Up the alley, and then we'll turn into the garage. Hopefully no one in my building's been bought off to let the shits in there."

Reaching into her little handbag that I barely noticed before, when pulled out a clicker, and the gate began swinging up towards the ceiling. "I have a special visitor space you can park in for now. I don't think my mother is going to be coming today, but—" and reaching back into her bag, pulled out her cell phone.

"I have a visitor today, Matura. so no coming over unannounced," she spoke into her phone. "And the Paparatzies are all out in full force in the front."