I have recently realized that if someone were to read my Medium profile and portfolio, they might notice that my writing centers around sex by a wide margin. I’d go as far as saying that 80%+ of my articles focus on the topic. Much of my other items deal with parenting.
This makes sense to me. I found Medium because of my desire to interact with other human beings around the topics of sex, love, and passion. It helps fill a role that is missing from my “normal” everyday life. Therefore, I tend to box myself in a bit here.
When I first joined Medium and made a profile, I didn’t ever expect to write on this platform. I was here to read and learn about sex and a lot of other topics. So, I chose a screen name. Teadad. I like tea. I’m a dad. Easy.
But now that I am here and writing and fully using this as a way to connect, I feel that it is time to have a proper name on here as I expand my boundaries and connections. So, here I am.
Pleased to meet you. Again. I hope you continue to…
Sometimes I like to retreat and hide from the world and reality. I will immerse myself in activities and fade away from everything else. Solitary distractions.
Sometimes I like to be chased. I often do so much of the chasing and initiating that I’ll fantasize of someone wanting me so badly that they come looking for me in the veil I have pulled around myself. Searching for my love, intimacy, voice. It’s the longing that allows you to find me.
Lover, come find me. I am in the deep inhale of breath, held in my lungs as I stretch. I…
The men in my life
At least around me
But they did cry
Like when my grandfather,
Lungs paying the final price for
A lifetime spent in underregulated
Factory pollution and coal
Smoking cigarettes to boot
When he couldn’t breathe without tanks
He wrote something to his dear
And passed it across the table
“Sometimes it’s OK for men to cry together.”
And they cried together
One mourning a friend
Almost but not quite gone
The other mourning his
Being not quite all here
When that grandfather died My favorite grandparent I was eleven years…
When I was born, my biological father wasn’t present. He had cheated on my mother when she was pregnant with me. My mother found out and left him. He was absent from my life until I was about five years old.
Then he showed up and decided that he wanted me. Better late than never, I suppose. The courts granted him time with me. …
It will probably come as no surprise to most who have gotten to know me through my work here on Medium that I am a huge supporter of using sex toys. I have never felt some of the shame or ego issues that many men seem to experience when incorporating sex toys with a partner.
According to Indiana University researchers, 44.8% of men aged 18–60 have used a vibrator during a sexual encounter “with no statistical differences between the rates of vibrator use between men who identified as heterosexual and those who identified as gay or bisexual.”
The article mentions…
Waking up with wrapped limbs, warmth wealthily shared under layers. We can’t wait to wake up with each other.
Bountiful butt and breasts bounce into your bra and booty shorts, a bedazzling beauty is this buxom babe before me. I can’t wait to behold you from bed, a better angle before arising from the blankets
Stolen scans from across the sun-streaked room show succulent, sultry lips sneakily sharing stolen air kisses that I savor. I can’t wait for the slow descent of sundown where we can soon suck and slide
Thirsty texts tell of titillating Tuesday twilight trysts that try…
How haunting is our melody?
Voice type sounds mingling in and out
Out and in, am I you or are you me?
Whispers have never been so strong, no doubt
Your eyes are the scrying type
I see the future when I peer
I’m all your favorite archetypes
Lover, Healer, Magician, Seer
Strike me a chord, vibrate the note
Give me all of it, I devour
Say you love me even if you don’t
Climb my tower, reveal your power
I don’t know when or how to say stop I take all of you in, I’m open wide…
“Tongue-tied and twisted, just an Earthbound misfit”
I have a bit of a confession
I have a bit of an obsession
It most definitely involves my tongue
I’m all sorts of strung out and sprung
My tongue from which your pussy is hung
Mounted on my face like a three-dimensional painting
I cannot say that I’ve recently had much training
Your previous desire for licking, waning, and constraining
Not that I’m complaining as your desire is now regaining
You’ve been uncorked and I’m straining to take all that you’re draining
Yes, my tongue belongs on and inside of your body…