Fairy Tail

Advisory:Sexually explicit


Once under a time out of the water nearby,

rode a knight with a shiner, armoured,

on his lusty steed, seeking a handsome young prince,

bored and expiring, to bore some spirit into.


Everyone he met, he questioned,

“Where can I find a handsome young prince,

bored and expiring, whose hungry hole

needs some liberation?”


And always they answered the same:

“There’s a prince, just like you describe him,

kept in a dungeon under the castle,

and rumored to take all comers.”


So off to that dungeon rode our knight,

the motion of his steed, along with the

anticipated action, making him more

than a little bit horny.


Arriving at the castle and barging

into the dungeon, the knight saw

the young prince, handsome as promised,

naked and shaved and tied to the bed.


“Well, fuck!” said the knight. “Everything’s

just as they said! “What’s your story,

my ravishing young prince? How did

you get yourself into this predicament?”


“Simple enough,” the prince responded,

“My royal parents grounded me here

to keep me from being promiscuous,

but it hasn’t quite worked out as planned.


“They always forget to lock the door,

so every night a new knight shows up

to fuck me and leave me—and leave

me unsatisfied, because all their cocks

are just average, and I need a lot of lance.

Will you kiss me, untie me and take me away?

I am ravishingly handsome, after all,

and you look a little lonely yourself.”


“Eventually,” said the knight, but first

I’m going to ravish you, handsome,

and liberate your slutty ass with a lot

of my lance, which I think you will find

more than adequate, but if you’re still

unsatisfied, we can have a three-way

with my steed, who’s hung like a horse

and always up for anything.”


No doubt the knight with a shiner,

will fulfill all the desires of the

bored young prince, and they’ll kiss

and ride the steed off together.

But, right now, it seems

they’re still going at it.


Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper



Fashionisti Fucking

It’s always very stylish, of course,

preceded by hair and makeup,

manscaping and pedicures,

the soundtrack from a Paris runway,

expensive designer garments artfully shed,

the Hermes scarf maybe left on,

the pleasure definitely faked,

the mess cleaned up immediately.


Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper

Pondering Porn

Advisory: Sexually explicit

So many of them won’t show their faces,

but the Canadian dude has the balls,

even if he’s a slutty bottom by his own

description, to stare defiantly into the cam

as he impales his hole on an enormous

dildo and rides it, moaning, until he cums,

and, yeah, it’s hot when it’s in progress,

but afterward, awkward questions

trouble the viewer: Who’s exploiting

and who’s exploited? Who’s happy

and who’s reaching out for help?

Is this harmless pleasure or some

kind of sad perversion? Has the

bottom boy actualized his desires

or only limited his future options?

If he’s headed for a fall, how much

responsibility does the viewer share?

Does this exchange reflect the beauty

of sexual diversity acknowledged,

or does it merely show lust run rampant,

devoid of love, without connection

to a soul-mate, isolated even

from human touch?


Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper


More to the Story

Advisory: Sexually explicit


The morning comes of age beautifully on the beach at Zandvoort,

where the boyfriends wander hand in hand beside the lapping waves,

both wearing hoodies against the chill but nothing else, heads leaning

together as they share a secret or a kiss, obviously delighting in each

other’s company.  In the warmer afternoon, they will sunbathe, take

a swim, unpack good beer and a picnic lunch, maybe have a nap.

And in all these ways, they might be any couple, their tastes

and inclinations mostly unremarkable.


But there’s more to the story: Later in their urban apartment,

the two ivory-skinned Netherlanders, one dark-haired, the other

blond, in their late twenties or early thirties, but looking younger,

skinny and tall, best friends and lovers, entwine their shaved bodies,

grope each other, and kiss, twisting their tongues together,

wrapping their arms into a tight and loving embrace

in a moment of indisputable tenderness.


But there’s more to the story: The darker one is plugged and collared,

and his partner’s hands, resting on his shoulders, take a firmer grip,

and the blond dom forces him to kneel and suck the steel-ringed

cock that later will plow his widespread ass, bent over

rack to which he’s bound in front of the window, begging

for a harder fucking and permission to be unlocked

and allowed to cum just once.


But there’s more to the story: The orchestrated scene completed,

they’ll take a shower and climb into bed together, snuggling up

as equals, as they’ve done for nearly a decade now,

sharing this intimate space as they review the thrills of play

but then turn serious to talk over their hopes and dreams and plans,

the joys and sacrifices inherent in sharing a life,

the challenges of making it work.


But there’s more to the story: The following day’s a Monday,

and they’ll rise at six or thereabouts, drink strong coffee,

and maybe eat a slice of bread with jam if there’s time,

as they check their phones and laptops for texts and emails

and calendar items, making arrangements for the week of work

that will draw them into their different worlds, the business

of their divergent agendas.


But there’s more to the story: In fact, there’s more to it

than could ever be written down, even in an epic novel,

the story of two complex characters with complicated lives,

somehow bound together in love, in lust, in both mutual

and separate interests, in a relationship that endures,

and grows even as it turns and twists, the whole always

more than the sum of the parts.


Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper




Mister Right Now

After Shakespeare and Mullen


My Grindr hookup’s eyes are kind of dark,

but mostly red from smoking too much weed.

If manscaped chests are smooth, he’s a grassy park;

if appearance reveals class, then he is seedy.


I’ve seen a whole shitload of rainbow merch,

but he’s all in black, a too-old goth.

I know that he would leave me in the lurch

if he got a text from someone hotter.


If colognes were oceans, I could swim in his;

he could’ve skipped the spritz and taken a shower.

But he’s here and his dick is pretty big,

so, what the hell; we’ll be done in half an hour.


He’s about as godlike as a spade,

but I’m fucking desperate to get laid.


Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper


Advisory: Sexually explicit


Like a mother cat grooming her young

as they grow toward maturity,

I lick your dick until its resting softness

hardens and reaches its adult potential

to fuck my hungry hole until I  scream and take your load.


Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper

Sleeping Together

I’d praise how  our bodies perfectly entwine,

if this were some romantic verse. It isn’t.

It’s the cruder modern kind in which

your bony elbow jabs me in the ribcage,

your razor toenails scrape my naked calves,

and your hard cock that gave me pleasure before

kind of annoys me now that I want to sleep,

but when you roll over, you take all the covers with you,

leaving me cold.

Like us, that story’s old.

In my fantasies, you’re someone who

doesn’t concuss me with flailing arms or keep

me awake some nights with raucous snores,

but in reality, that’s not even half–

the book would have at least a hundred pages.

The sex is fine, but sleeping with you’s a bitch.

Yet my love, my love, is still consistent:

I wrote you this poem, and it even rhymes.


Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper