Columns: Enter ‘The Man’ by Drunken Slut Mum

So, I’ve confessed to being a Drunken Slut Mum – but who is to blame for my guilty secret?

Yes, a lot of it is my fault, but The Man (we shall call him for lack of another name) – The Man who cleared the mist on my view of ‘the act’ and dazzled me with how it really can be – is at least 50% to blame.

The Man is a ‘The’ rather than a ‘My’ and comes and goes as and when he pleases, rather like a cat in and out of its flap – if he’s hungry he may show up, if he isn’t being fed elsewhere. Sometimes he doesn’t visit for weeks, sometimes someone else is feeding him.

“That’s a raw deal,” I hear you say. Well, The Man more than compensates when he does enter the flap. The Man, who I may describe in more detail later, is very twinkly with an inner glow. His eyes catch your attention first – the way they take you in (and probably have a good guess at what you look like naked) and will you to meet and hold their gaze. He is not attractive in an obvious way, but after five or ten minutes in his company it is hard not to feel an inner stirring.

More importantly, The Man has great skill in knowing exactly which buttons to press on Drunken Slut Mum. He approaches the whole thing like a ten course meal of which every course is equally mouth-wateringly delicious. But he shares it and makes sure DSM eats just as much as he does while other men wolf down the lot themselves.

And I will share with you one of our delicious feasts in my next instalment…



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