Red Gym Shorts

Advisory: Sexually explicit.


I’d totally do the dude in red gym shorts,

flip-flops, and nothing else if I had the chance.

His graceful beauty sparks desire, but it’s

his casual unawareness of it that fans

the flames into a raging forest fire.

At least a head above me, but not too tall,

dark hair, scruffy beard, and laughing eyes

behind rectangular glass that make him look

intelligent and cultured.  The lightweight shorts

drape his glutes as if custom cut and ripple

in the wind like a red flag  piped

with the white of unconditional surrender

flying over his hairy tan legs. A T-shirt

scrunched up like a towel hangs at his waist,

his naked torso mostly smooth, his nipples

small and firm and needing licking; he’s lean

but not skinny, with the kind of physique

bestowed by nature rather than the gym,

the smooth curve from waist to shoulders like

an open highway I would love to drive.

He’s not parading himself but watching the floats

in a Pride parade, and when he raises

a hand to shield his eyes from the sun,

he exposes a furry armpit I’d like to smell and taste

before tonguing my way down from his sternum

all the way into those shorts to see

what gift could be unwrapped for me to suck on.


Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper

Anklet Fetish

Advisory: This one is sexually explicit. Please don’t read it if you have issues with that.

They’re all nearly naked and gorgeous,

this guys playing beach volleyball

in their skimpy ribbons of colorful fabric,

but what is it about the one in the

tie-dyed thong that arrests my gaze?

It’s that triad of braided cords

that makes me fuck him with my eyes.

Copyright 2015

T. Allen Culpepper


ADVISORY: This one is sexually explicit. Please don’t read it if that’s and issue for you.

Lying naked on his stomach,

shaven body splayed across the blanket,

he takes a lazy stretch and then rolls

slightly to the left, bending both knees

so that his smooth, round ass protrudes

and spreads out just enough

to display the proffered point of entry,

and then the tempter cocks his

blond head back over his right shoulder,

blue eyes gleaming, lips barely parted.

I’m human, you can’t expect me

to decline. I dive in.

Copyright 2015

T. Allen Culpepper

The Second Dude

Two hot guys at the booth

for the organic farm,

selling home-grown produce

at the farmers’ market

on a beautiful day:

one’s tall and slender in

black snap-front western shirt;

the other, average height

in a plaid button-up

and ragged baseball cap,

smooth face and grinning mouth,

the one you’d want to share

a beer with, get naked,

fuck around, wake up with.


Copyright 2013

T. Allen Culpepper


Black hair coiffed and groomed to shine;

cool glasses, distinctive brows, ear stud;

full lips, faint stubble, beckoning eyes;

dressed in plaid shirt and green hoodie.


I’m not quite sure what he’s doing here,

because he could hook up almost anywhere.

But I think my mission’s clear:

I’ll see if I can buy him a beer.


Copyright 2013

T. Allen Culpepper


In Your Shorts

On the hottest day of the year so far,

you’d be naked, except for

skimpy navy shorts and bright red shoes.

I’ll help you clean up after if you choose.


You’re hot in more ways than one;

when you run through the sprinklers, yum!

I like the way those shorts cling

to–hello!–how big’s that thing?


Copyright 2013

T. Allen Culpepper

Too Hot

Green tee, plaid shorts, baseball cap,

and trainers, talking on his cell

out in the street, walking past

my house, not that cute, but still–


if it weren’t so fucking hot

that into fucking I’m really not,

I’d make the effort to connect

just to see what happens next.


Copyright 2013

T. Allen Culpepper

Why Not?

Elvis hair and big dark shades,

western shirt with open neck,

young, smooth skin, confidence in spades.

Not much promise, but what the heck.


If I could get him off the phone

long enough, we could bone.

Not much in common, but no biggie;

right this minute, I kind of dig him.


Copyright 2013

T. Allen Culpepper