Disclaimer: These are not my characters.

Author's Notes: Updated 06/06/15 - Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I really appreciate you all sticking around for these updates.

I did a little bit more tweaking on this chapter because I wanted Bart to try to talk to Kristy a little bit about what they were doing. Kristy, obviously, was having none of that.

I still want all these chapters to seem like subconscious narrations but please, please tell me if things are sounding too cheesy or too jumbled.

Rating: M - the characters are not very mature but the stuff that's going on is definitely not appropriate for kids.

CHAPTER 4: Kristy

Dude, for reals. I'm completely addicted to Bart Taylor.

I know, I know. Kristy Thomas, boy crazy? It doesn't sound even remotely possible.

Thirteen-year-old Kristy wouldn't understand.

I don't even think fifteen-year-old Kristy would get it.

Sixteen-year-old Kristy kinda had the general idea of it but she was still kinda fuzzy on the details.

But me, now? Seventeen-year-old Kristy? It's like something in my brain just clicked one day. Not only do I get it, I am all up in it. Literally.

"Fuck." Bart said with a sigh.

I was sitting in his lap completely wrapped around him. He had been squishing me against him while we were making out on his bed.

Thirteen-year-old Kristy would have been grossed out and made jokes about how he was sucking my mouth off of my face. Or at the very least, she would have been trying to figure out how it was possible for either of us to breathe. I still don't get the exact science of it, but-

it.

Is.

AWESOME.

He shoved me off of him and scrubbed at his face with his hands. "You're going to kill me, Thomas. You're going to fucking kill me and my parents are going to be so embarrassed about how I died and they'll make up some bogus story for my obituary and—"

Bart tends to ramble a lot. Especially after we've been making out for a couple of hours. I think it's his way of cooling down, if you know what I mean.

I snickered right along with thirteen-year-old me.

I honestly don't really pay attention to anything he says. Like right now, his hands were waving around while he spoke. He was saying something about boundaries and not rushing? I don't know. Normally I'm all for sports talk but all I could think about was that this wasn't the best timing for it. He has these stubby thick fingers and his hands are rough and scratchy from football practice and the batting cages and wrestling and basketball and hiking, and all the million other sports and outdoorsy stuff he does. They're manly and tough and they weren't touching me. And when they're not touching me, I feel pissed and irritated cuz my insides are tying themselves into knots and I know as soon as he starts touching me again, they'll melt and that feeling in the pit of my stomach will stop hurting so much.

But he just kept stop rambling about I don't even know what. His mouth was moving and it wasn't on me and looking at him just made me feel like someone was grabbing my intestines and squishing them.

I finally just sighed in irritation and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt pulled him onto me. His mouth was on mine and his hands were under my bra and my legs were wrapped around him and I should probably not be pulling his hair as hard as I was but he was totally digging it and my brain was just shutting down.

I don't even know what happened next. There were just sighs and moans and his hands on my skin and our jeans were getting in the way and I couldn't get him close enough to me. It's like the more he kissed me and touched me the better I felt but at the same time, the knots were getting tighter and tighter and I was getting more irritated so I'd scratch at his back or he'd pull my hair and we'd shove each other then pull each other closer. There was so much biting and cussing and it was all SO frustrating because it just wasn't enough.

And then he bit my nipple.

"SON OF A BITCH!" I exclaimed. I shoved him as hard as I could and grabbed my left boob. I let out a hiss between my teeth because of how much it stung.

I looked down worriedly but it was still attached, thank God. "Why would you try to bite off my nipple?" I asked, completely confused. I couldn't understand where my shirt and bra had gone. My clothes had been on a second ago, I was sure of it.

And then it hit me.

I was sitting on Bart's bed, clutching my injured boob, in just the boy shorts that Stacey made me buy during the last Victoria's Secret sale. She had said that no girl in her right mind made out with boys in cotton granny panties from Wal-Mart. Which I totally didn't get. Bart wasn't paying attention to my underwear and he hadn't asked me where I bought them.

But now, sitting on his bed, in nothing but my underwear? I hated to admit it but I was glad they weren't cotton briefs.

Since it didn't look like there was any permanent damage, I looked Bart over. He was wearing regular cotton boxers. Thirteen-year-old Kristy wanted me to ask him where he'd bought them but she also had her hands tightly over her eyes cuz she was in Bart Taylor's room and he was almost naked. And worst of all, she was almost naked. But she had real boobs now, so that was kind of cool. Except, oh my Lord, a boy was actually looking at her boobs. He was looking at her boobs the way Claudia looks at half priced art supplies or Halloween candy that's been marked down seventy-five percent.

At least, I think it was my boobs. Maybe it was my Victoria's Secret underwear after all. Thirteen-year-old me probably would have asked but this was kind of traumatizing for someone who couldn't even say bra in front of a boy.

"Seriously, Bart! What the hell? Why did you bite my nipple?"

He shrugged and his face was flushed. Actually, it wasn't just his face. It was his whole body. His neck, his chest, even his arms were all this bright red like he was embarrassed. Except he so wasn't. "You deserved it." He said. "Have you been listening to anything I've said?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't really care about any of that." I looked down again and started massaging my poor wounded nipple. "I don't get why you keep talking. It's not important. This is seriously like, the one time in my life where I think talking is totally unnecessary."

He blinked. "But—but—"

There wasn't any blood and the sting was nowhere near as bad as the way I was starting to knot up again. I crossed my arms and glared at him. "Cram it, Taylor." I said with a huff. "I didn't come here for a chat. Are we doing this or what?"

And then I tackled him.

Everything just blurred together after that. It was so much more kissing and even more biting and his hands (which, by the way, are the most amazing things ever!) were all over me and he was grabbing me and just…it was awesome.

This was not the type of place for thirteen, fourteen, fifteen or even sixteen-year-old Kristy. They had fled the room in a panic. Thirteen-year-old Kristy was probably grossed out and scared shitless but as she ran out of the room, she reminded me I had to get Bart back. I had worked hard for these boobs, dammit. Bart Taylor was not getting away with biting my nipple just because he felt like it.

But my brain was clouding over and the only thing I could think of was sticking my hand down his shorts and getting a firm grip of his junk.

And that made him gasp and completely stop whatever he was doing. His eyes widened and he looked at me in shock.

I smirked. "What now, Taylor? I can play dirty too."

And see, here's the thing: Bart and I generally go kinda crazy with the whole making out thing. I mean, obviously. I was barely in my underwear and had no idea how that had even happened. And he's finger banged me, like, tons of times. Like, to the point where I've even been willing to wear skirts every now and then if it means easier access. Like seriously, part of the reason I think Stacey's stupid for being so obsessed with underwear is because, it's the most useless piece of clothes ever. If I know I'm gonna be seeing Bart after practice, I'm not even gonna bother with them. Do you have any idea how hard it is for him to get his big beefy hands inside my basketball shorts? I don't know why they haven't ripped to shreds already. But even with all that stuff going, I've never done anything with his junk.

I know, it's weird but I've never really felt a penis before. I mean, I've felt it. You spend enough time making out like the last ounce of oxygen is in Bart Taylor's lungs and rubbing up against his crotch like a genie's gonna pop out, you're gonna feel it at one point or another. Especially since we both tend to wear a lot of sweat pants. But I've never actually handled it.

And, it's probably selfish, considering I ride his hand more often than I ride the softball team's bus but Bart seems okay with it. He says all the girls at his school are high maintenance prudes who give out hand jobs and head if you take them out to Chez Maurice or buy them Louis Vuitton. Well, I wouldn't be able to pick out Chez Maurice from Louis Vuitton even at gunpoint, so I really don't give two shits about doing anything that isn't going to directly get me off. And Bart never tries to make me do anything. Which just makes him that much hotter. The one time Cary tried to talk me into giving him a blowjob, I laughed in his face and kicked him out of my car. I seriously don't even know how he got home. I really don't even care.

But it's different with Bart. And now I was sitting in his room, in my Victoria's Secret boy shorts, with my hand down Bart's boxers and not only did I not know if his boxers were from Wal-Mart or Target, I didn't know what I was supposed to do.

Plus, I really wanted to see it. This was going into some new unexplored territory.

We looked at each other. Bart looked scared, like he thought I was either gonna rip it off or laugh in his face. Or maybe do both. I can be kind of a bitch sometimes.

So I just said the first thing that occurred to me. "It's really smooth." I loosened my grip on it and ran my hand up and down it, just to kinda get a mental picture.

Bart did this weird gasping thing and made a face like he was drowning.

I pulled my hand out immediately. "Should I have not done that?" I asked confused.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, then took my hand and slowly placed it on top of his boxers, repeating the motion I'd just done.

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, Bart? Did you forget I used to change diapers? You can pull it out. It's not like you haven't seen my junk before."

Bart glared at me. "Trust me, my stuff is a lot bigger than something that'd be in a diaper."

I crossed my arms and smirked at him. "Then prove it."

"I don't think we're really ready for this yet…" He said.

I rolled my eyes. "You're stroking yourself while you're saying that. Just take the boxers off already, dummy."

"Are you sure?" He asked like a total idiot. "Because if we're moving too fast…"

"Oh for Pete's sake." I snapped. I grabbed his waistband and yanked the damn boxers down for him. Seriously, he was such a girl about stuff sometimes. But as I got a good look at it, I could see why he was worried about freaking me out. I mean, it wasn't like, super long or anything but it was a lot thicker than I was expecting. How was something like that supposed to fit? Half the time, Bart couldn't even get more than his middle finger in, and this thing was like…I put my hand around it to measure it.

"This thing's like the same size as a beer bottle." I raised an eyebrow. "Huh…no wonder Shannon had to get her tonsils removed."

Bart was blushing. "I told you, things with Shannon didn't get that far."

I laughed. "Yeah, yeah. She was too worried about her gpa. I was just joking, Taylor. I'm pretty sure I've eaten bratwursts that are bigger than this."

Bart was getting more flushed by the second and he started fumbling for his boxers, "If you're just gonna be making fun of me…"

"Don't be so sensitive." I said. I did that thing with my hand again and watched in amusement as hips jutted up a bit. "Show me how this stuff works, so you can buy me a Chez Maurice handbag or whatever."

"Louis Vutton makes handbags." Bart said. He gritted his teeth and leaned back against the headboard. "I think you've got a pretty good handle on this though. Keep it up, I'll pay Louis Vuitton to make your entire softball team's uniforms."

I pulled my hand away and glared at him. "Why don't you just do it yourself then? Maybe you can use the money to buy a new coach for your football team. You guys need all the help you can get."

Bart pouted and grabbed my arm. "Now who's being sensitive?" He said. He put my hand back on his junk and then guided it up and down. Normally, I get annoyed when people boss me around, especially if I'm doing something as simple as moving my hand up and down but I gotta admit, for somethng that doesn't directly benefit me, it was kinda hot.

Kinda really hot.

I leaned in and kissed him, expecting our making out to pick back up. But instead he gave me a lazy kiss back and just kept synchronizing his hip thrusts with my hand movements. I leaned in again, determined to get better kissing out of him. It was weird though. With me touching him and him kissing me knots were back tighter than ever. It was making me feel like my insides were cramping in on themeselves. And I was jealous. He was enjoying himself, obviously. And it was cuz of me, obviously. But it was like I wasn't even really there anymore.

I let go and massaged my wrist. "My arm hurts." I said flatly.

He blinked at me in surprise. "So switch to the other hand."

I rolled my eyes. "It's getting boring."

He laughed. "Believe me, I am definitely not bored."

He leaned forward to kiss me and I pushed him away.

"Hey!" He said. He pushed me back. And then we were wrestling. I was in my Victoria's Secret underwear wrestling in bed with a naked Bart Taylor.

Then it just got weird. Not really weird, but it was definitely not something that I'd be able to explain to the girls later. At one point my underwear kept getting in the way of everything, so they came off. And there was no magic moment like in the cheesy chick flicks that Mary Anne used to love to watch. There was no looking deeply into each other's eyes. There were no sweet nothings whispered to each other.

At one point, I called Bart a dicktease.

I'm not sure what his reply was. I know there was a lot of cussing. And for how clumsy we were, things weren't awkward. Part of me felt like I should have been grossed out by how slimy everything was but oh my lord…I almost punched him at one point because he accidentally slipped out and it was like he had ripped my guts out.

Did I mention how I have no self-control around Bart Taylor?

I needed to keep his mouth on me. His hands had to be touching me, constantly. I needed there to be almost no space between us and even now, with him literally inside of me, it still wasn't close enough.

And suddenly he gave a surprised yelp and rolled off of me. It was that same gut ripping feeling and now I was cold and naked and nowhere near done with him.

"What the hell? That's not it, is it?" I asked. I tried not to sound panicked. Kristy Thomas doesn't panic.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Seriously?" He wiped the sweat off his forehead and lay back in his pillows. He tried wrapping an arm around me, like we were going to cuddle or something.

I punched his arm. "Bart!"

He glared at me, "Give me a minute, okay? I'm not the energizer bunny."

I huffed, counted to sixty and then sat on him.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "I told you, I need a break."

I leaned down and gave him those lame chick flick kisses he likes. He always tries to sneak them in even though it's boring to me. We're not some stupid prince and princess in a Disney movie but I figured if anything would get him going, it'd be that. Sure enough, he started kissing me back and I had to remember to let him put his tongue in my mouth instead of just sucking it in myself but he was running his calloused hands up and down my back and that made me shiver and grind up against him.

He pulled his face away. "Holy crap, Thomas." He said with another sigh. "You're going to fucking kill me, you know that?"

I vaguely remember he said something about his ears being sensitive so I ran my tongue along his earlobe just to see. His hips jutted up quickly and I laughed. "There's worse ways to die." I said.

I licked from his earlobe down to his neck and his grip on my back tightened. I sat up and smirked at him. Oh yeah. He was ready. I pushed my hair out of my face and leaned down to give him another one of those cheesy kisses. "I mean, come on, sexing to death at seventeen? That's a whole lot of sex."

And that started round two.