Remixed

Remixed is about fairy tales rewritten as boyxboy stories. Now I'm going to say something and I'm only going to say it once:

If you don't like boyxboy then leave this story and keep your comments to yourself.

Okay, now that that's done. There will be sexual scenes in this story (which is why I rated it Red). Now I know that some people are more mature than others who are older than them, but I don't trust the people who aren't as mature as you to read my story and leave inappropriate or insipid comments that will just agitate and anger me.

So, thank you for reading my (crappy as hell) synopsis and...enjoy ; )

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2. Ethan

     I know I’m supposed to be concentrating on controlling my breathing right now but I just cannot stop thinking about the Prince of my senior class—Beau Kingsley.  The fact that I woke up from a naughty wet dream about him this morning (all hot, silky skin and hard tensed muscles and lots of cum), doesn’t help.
     So, I’m looking down as I run, trying very hard to not think about said wet dream (cause having a hard-on while running hurts, and is also very noticeable when all I’m wearing are running shorts), when BAM!  It feels like I just slammed into a concrete wall—a very warm, silky wall.  Whoever I just ran into wraps their (very strong) arms around my head as we fall down, our legs tangling and our lower halves banging together which makes me notice that whoever fell on me is very big…and hard.
     “Oh my God, I am so sorry!  I wasn’t paying attention to where I was running cause I was thinking about something and I just got really distract—,” the voice abruptly stops as I shift my hips against his, much in the nature of a thrust in sex, and I swear I heard a soft, guttural moan slip out of his mouth as he gives an involuntary thrust back into my hardened cock.
     Now don’t go thinking I’m a whore because I’m getting hard with a stranger—cause I’m not.  I recognize the stranger’s voice, and I know who it is—Beau Kingsley, the object of my desire since I discovered I was gay (just so you know, I was nine).
     “It’s okay Beau.  It was just an accident.  I’m fine,” I tell him, helping him to disentangle our legs without rubbing ourselves together again even though I want to so bad.  While we’re doing this, I notice that Beau is wearing the same thing I am:  running shorts and nothing else.
     “I am so sorry Ethan; I don’t know how to make it up to you,” he tells me as we’re finally standing up, and I get a little thrill when I realize he knows my name.  I look up at his beautiful gray eyes, his tan skin (which he got from his Hispanic mother), and ebony hair, smiling.
     “If you’re bent on making it up to me, I won’t argue if you cook me breakfast,” I grin at him.  He nods quickly, smiling too.
     “Yeah that’s great.  But can we do it at your place because mine is packed with people.  We can take my car if you want,” he says, hope in his eyes.  I nod my head and follow him as he turns around and leads the way to a black 2010 Chevy Camaro with leather interior.  The cool, supple leather feels amazing against my overheated skin.
     It takes us about five minutes to get to my place.  I live on Broadway in a house that my aunt owns; I live alone since I came out to my parents when I was sixteen, two years ago.  When we get out of the car I lead the way to my front porch and bend down with my ass close to Beau’s crotch, pretending not to notice when it rubs lightly against him (alright, I confess, I’m acting like a whore now; I can’t help it, I’ve been in love with the guy since the fourth grade and he protected me from getting my ass beat for wanting to eat lunch with my best friend, Kelly, and her friends, all of whom were girls, instead of eating with the guys) while I search for the key to my house under the frog statue by my front door.  When I find the key, I make sure my ass digs into his crotch as I straighten up and he lightly sucks in a breath when I do so.  I quickly unlock the door and let him in, quickly turning on lights as I go deeper into the house.  When I get into the kitchen, I turn around and eye Beau carefully.
     “What do you know how to make?” I ask.  After a moment of thinking, he speaks.
     “I know how to make pancakes, waffles, omelets, any kind of egg, bacon, sausage…,” he trails off as I spin around and start taking ingredients out.
     “Good cause you’re making me chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage, and a ham and cheese omelet,” I fire off the order quickly as I take out all the ingredients he needs to make my breakfast.  Then I turn around and get an eyeful of a tan, silky, and heavily muscled chest which makes me think of grease spatter and other things.
     “I’m going to get you a shirt so you don’t get burned accidently,” I tell him then shoot off toward my bedroom and frantically search for a t-shirt big enough to fit him.  I find one in my nightshirt collection—figures cause these shirts are like 2XL’s.
     Anyway, I shoot back to the kitchen and am awed by the sight that greets me.  Beau is bent down, looking for something underneath the sink and I am getting an eyeful of a beautifully round and plump rump covered by black running shorts.  This man in that position makes me think of naughty things:  for example, him giving me head, or me torturing him with belts.  Oh, the things I could do to this man…
     “Hey, Ethan, do you have a radio?”  Beau’s silky voice makes me think of a fantasy of us in the tub, me laying on top of him and his erection nestled in between my cheeks, while he gives me a hand job with a washcloth as he growls commands in my ear…oh, I’m about to cum so bad.
     “Umm, there might be one in the hall closet.  I’ll get it while you start cooking.  Oh here, I found a shirt that could fit you,” I stammer out before handing him the shirt and hurrying toward the bathroom.  When I get there, I take a washcloth out of the cabinet above the toilet and soak it in cold water and proceed to act out the fantasy of being taking care of by Beau with a washcloth.
     The rough texture makes a chill race up my spine and I moan silently.  I move my hand up and down slowly and then faster and faster until I feel about ready to blow, but it seems no matter what I do, nothing will push me over the edge.  I change up my fantasy to Beau on his hands and knees while I’m taking a wet towel and snapping it over his plump, round bottom until it’s pink.  Then I picture myself massaging his ass until I get on his back and proceed to ride my hard on out on the back of his head and I explode all over his hair.  I rub my cum all in his hair then lean down and whisper, “You’re mine and no one else’s.  Got it?”  He moans and nods his head, then I roll him over and proceed to give him a blowjob until he’s writhing and whimpering to cum.  But he has a cock ring on and can’t cum unless—
     “Hey, Ethan?  I was wondering if you could help me because I don’t know how much of everything you want.  Ethan?”  Beau’s beautifully deep voice interrupts my fantasy, making me notice that I have proceeded to blow my load all over the sink.  I panic and then I force myself to breathe.
     “Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute,” I speak through the door.  It takes me about two minutes to clean up my mess then I take a shower quick enough to scrub my hair and rinse my body free of sweat and cum.  I have ratty clothes on a shelf in the bathroom so I change into those and go back out into the kitchen after grabbing the radio from the closet.  Beau is cooking my pancakes and keeping an eye on the eggs he’s also cooking.
     “Hey, if you want to take a shower, I can watch the food so it doesn’t burn,” I offer, so badly wanting to join him in said shower.  I put the radio down on the table and start to tune it.
     “Really?  That’d be great, thanks!”  Beau says enthusiastically.  I smile and watch as he bounds off to the bathroom.  I amble over to the stove and make sure the food doesn’t burn by stirring the eggs and shifting the pancake, trying not to think about Beau in the shower when I hear the shower turn on.  I mean, all that tan silky skin with water sluicing down his muscled form…oh just the thought of it makes me want cream again.  Shit, little E is starting to wake up again.  I hurry to the fridge, grabbing a towel on the way, and put some ice in the towel as a makeshift ice bag, shoving the entire thing down my shorts.  I barely restrain from squealing because:
     (A) I’m a guy and guys don’t do that and
     (B) Beau might hear me.
     So, I’m standing there with my hands down my pants and struggling to hold them there because the towel holding the ice?  Yeah, it’s thin like a piece of paper.  So now it feels like my balls are going to fall off, but the good news is that my wood is starting to deflate.  Then I hear the most dreadful sound ever.
     The shower gets turned off and I hear Beau shout for me.  “Ethan!”
     Oh my God, what I wouldn’t give to hear that while he’s on top of me, plunging his thick rod into my ass with a ring around my cock making it impossible for me to come without its removal.  Hearing that while he comes and I have to beg for release…oh God, I think I’m a nymphomaniac.
     I take the ice out of my pants, throwing the ice in the sink and the towel in the basket of dirty towels, and hurry to the bathroom, shouting through the door, “Yeah?”
     “I don’t have any clean shorts to put on.  Do you think I could borrow a pair from you?”  He shouts back.  The image that puts into my mind of him wearing nothing and his cock saluting me…oh, yeah I’m definitely a nympho.
     “Yeah, let me go look for something you can wear.  I’ll be right back,” I hurry away to my room and start rummaging through my drawers, looking for something that would fit him when my hands land on a pair of shorts tight on me.  I close my eyes as I picture him in these, his package outlined to perfection in these tight booty shorts—oh yeah.  Picturing him in these while I ride his back, coming all over him…  I shake my head, dispelling the image, and pick up a pair of sweats from Goodwill that might fit him.  I shrug and hope for the best as I walk to the bathroom only to be greeted by the sight of Beau walking out of it, completely naked.

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