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Penis Insurance: My Boyfriend’s £12 Million Willy!

May 20, 2015 by Harriet Rose-Gale

WHEN TANYA, 27, WENT ON A GIRLS NIGHT OUT TO A STRIPPER SHOW, SHE HAD NO IDEA SHE WAS GOING TO FALL IN LOVE ON THE FRONT ROW… WITH ONE OF THE STAR STRIPPERS.

BUT THE BIGGER SHOCK WAS TO COME WHEN SHE REALISED HER NEW MAN’S MANHOOD WAS WORTH MORE THAN HER MASSIVE DESIGNER SHOE COLLECTION, HER WHOLE WARDROBE AND HER HOUSE AND CAR… PUT TOGETHER, THANKS TO HIS MEGA PENIS INSURANCE

my boyfriend insured his willy for £12 million

OK, so this is one of our stories from last year, but we wanted to repost it as it’s the most popular story on our website. It’s a good reminder that we are always on the hunt for funny, bizarre or eyebrow raising relationship stories. We guarantee to pay you the highest fees for your story. Read Tanya Bailey’s story about her stripper boyfriend’s £12m willy!

Sitting on the front row of a strip show at my friend’s Hen Do as a bunch of well-oiled men gyrated their hips in my face, I had no idea that a couple of months later I would be responsible for probably the most expensive willy in history. You’re probably wondering what on earth I’m talking about, so let me explain.

My boyfriend’s penis is worth more than my massive designer shoe collection, my wardrobe, my top-end make-up, my car and my house… put together.

That’s right; his willy is insured for a whopping twelve million pounds, making me the proud ‘holder’ of the goldest member this side of Austin Powers!

My boyfriend, Lotan Carter, 24, is a member of the famous DreamBoys strip act that tours the country jiggling their bits at screaming brides-to-be and shaking their tushies at anyone who fancies a bit. And that’s just where I met him, at one of his weekly skin shows in London.

My friend, Nisha, 32, had invited me along to a ‘show’ and, thinking it was a West End performance or a comedy night, I had agreed to go. When we arrived and I saw the sign over the venue I was gobsmacked. “This isn’t the Rocky Horror Show,” I squealed with laughter. “More like the Cocky Horror Show…”

“Don’t you dare!” my friend said laughing. “You’re going to love it!” And I did. It was such a fun night, really tongue-in-cheek, and the DreamBoys were amazing – dancing, fire-breathing. Some even went the Full Monty. But the one I had my eye on didn’t need to strip to his birthday suit. I could see Lotan clear enough – and I loved it.

Backstage, after the show, he came over, slipped his bulging arm around my waist and said hello. I was absolutely thrilled and when he gave me his number, I cursed the fact I was already in a relationship. My relationship didn’t last long though, and pretty soon Lotan was putting on a private show just for me.

We had hooked up on my birthday when Lotan rang to say ‘Hi.’ We gelled like a tight pair of Y-fronts mold to the steely-hard, well-oiled buttocks of a male stripper, and soon I was giggling at the thought of calling him my boyfriend. Two and a half years later and our sex life is AMAZING, as you can imagine it would be going out with someone like Lotan.

He’s such a passionate lover and because he’s a professional dancer, he’s so limber and stretchy – there’s no position that we can’t enjoy! The only problem is, when you’re going out with a stripper, you’ve got a lot more responsibility than you’d think. Lotan sat me down to explain:

“Listen babe – one of the lads at work had an accident. A fan grabbed his tackle a bit too hard and he’s had to take two weeks off work.”

I was shocked. I know women can get excited – I got a bit excited myself when I went to one of the shows – but I didn’t realise the boys were in any danger.

“We’ve had to take out insurance on our members,” he continued. “Now my willy’s worth £12m!”

My eyes bulged and inadvertently looked at his crotch.

“Twelve million!?” I said as my jaw dropped.

“Erm, up here, babe,” he said pointing to his eyes, and we both burst out laughing. But all the talk about Lotan’s crown jewels got us both very excited and pretty soon we found ourselves in the bedroom. As we were making love, I came down funny on top of Lotan and heard a sickening crunch.

“Oh my God, are you all right, babe?” I said looking down to see tears streaming down his face. In the heat of the moment, Lotan brushed off the pain, switched positions and carried on. It was only later when a black and blue hue spread across his willy that we started to think something serious might have gone wrong and that the insurance policy was no laughing matter.

Showing me his manhood, Lotan complained he was feeling a bit sore. “Oh my God,” I screamed again. “It’s black and blue!”

Lotan’s willy was bruised from the tip to the b-bag. It looked like two plumbs and a swollen banana, and any kind of arousal was causing him a lot of pain. “Please don’t do anything sexy, babes,” he begged. “I don’t think I could take it.”

“Like this, you mean,” I teased, leaning forward and unbuttoning my shirt slowly. “Oh Christ,” he said grimacing and ran into the bathroom. It turned out that while our love is unbreakable, his willy certainly isn’t.

Lotan was forced to take a week off work and spent it limping around the house in the nude. I was sorry I’d broke his willy, but I did get to watch him wandering around the house in his birthday suit for a week – and it got me out of washing his sweaty strip-show undies too, so I wasn’t complaining. It’s crazy to think that Lotan’s willy is now worth more than everything I own: my whole wardrobe, all my shoes, make-up and jewellery.

I’m a real girly girl so I have loads of clothes and a huge designer shoe collection. He’s even worth more than my car and my family home… put together. The whole DreamBoys troupe is now insured for a staggering £96m between them, making them worth as much as some top footballers.

The serious side of it is that accidents do happen. We have to be very careful because we have such a passionate relationship – some people would say we’ve re-written the Karma- Sutra. But we have to have a strict ‘safety first’ policy.

There are certain positions that are just too dangerous, and too expensive for us to enjoy anymore. Most of the time, I let him be in control – if it was the other way around, I might get too excited and break something again.

Occasionally, I have to remind him who’s boss, in case he gets any ideas. There are a lot of girls out there ogling him every weekend and I want him to know that he’s got everything he needs right here. Which is why I thought it was hilarious when he bought himself a willy pump.

“What’s this for?” I said waving the big pink pump in the air. “You’ve got nothing to worry about down there, babes.”

“I just thought it might be good to use before a show, you know, to get me pumped up…”

But the only thing it ever pumped up was his landlady’s cheeks when she had to let Lotan in after he’d locked himself out. As she opened the door to let him in, the bright pink pump was just lying there on the hall floor. Mortified I rushed passed her and kicked it under the stairs, spinning on my heels to say thank you before slamming the door in her face.

“Lotan!” I screamed, horrified. “You can’t leave things like this lying around!”

“She’s probably got no idea what it was,” he laughed, brushing it off.

I guess he was right. The look on her face told me it certainly wasn’t something her fella kept on his dressing table. But it’s all just another part of going out with a stripper.

Along with the fights over the bathroom, I have to share my self-tan, my nail clippers, and my moisturiser. I can’t even keep my bath bombs to myself. He tans, shaves, plucks, grooms, clips, moisturises and everything else you can imagine. You might think he’s vain, but it’s his job. If you were worth £12m, wouldn’t you take care of your assets?

LOTAN SAYS:

“Having a £12m willy makes me feel like the daddy. It’s one of the perks of the job. And after the ‘accident’ with Tanya – I’m really glad I have it.

“Imagine your arm was a willy. Tense it, and then try and bend it. Impossible, right? Well, my willy snapped just like that – I was in agony.

“I remember recoiling in pain and then lifting her whole body off me. Obviously we carried on, so job’s a good un, but my god did it hurt. After that I was walking around in the buff – I couldn’t get my hot pants on so I couldn’t work.

“Tanya was teasing me, which was hell, but I saw the funny side.

“On a serious note, having your willy insured for so much money is really important. The DreamBoys often get groped and mobbed by hysterical women – and we need protection. Our manhoods are our livelihoods too, and if they get damaged, our bank accounts take the brunt of it.

“I won’t strip forever, but for now, I’m having fun and making good money, so I’ll keep doing it for a while.”

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My Husband Is a Paedophile

May 15, 2014 by Sell My Story

Karen, 54, had been married to Kevin, 54, for 16 years, they owned a business together and she thought she knew everything about him. Then one day when she logged on to her husband’s computer Karen unearthed a sordid secret that left her physically sick. Karen’s Husband is a Paedophile.

Stored on Kevin’s computer was over a million child abuse images. When Karen warned him she would be telling the police sick Kevin offered her a divorce and to sign over their home if she kept quiet. At his trial jurors took just 90 minutes to find him guilty and he was jailed for five years.

After being married for 16 years I liked to think my husband Kevin and I knew each other inside and out. When we first met back when I was in my mid-twenties I was working as a chef for a catering company. One morning I left my house to find that the usual driver had been replaced by new-starter Kevin. Once we’d got over the awkward formalities of introducing ourselves I found that Kevin was very easy to talk to and I warmed to him almost instantly.

Soon the drives to and from work became the highlight of my day. I loved it when it was just Kevin and I in the car. We used to have a giggle and poke fun at each other with me referring to him as my personal chauffeur. With just the two of us spending so much time alone together things moved quickly and it wasn’t long before we became more than just friends.

Within a year we both gave up our jobs and decided to fly to France together to go travelling. By the time we got back in the country I had made up my mind that Kevin was the one for me and we both agreed the next step was to move in together. I felt so lucky. It seemed like things were really falling into place.

After we were married Kevin decided to quit his job and set up his own business installing windows. “Why don’t you help me out Karen?” He asked me out of the blue one day. “I think we would make a great team.” I didn’t take much convincing. We agreed that I would do the administration work from home while Kevin did all the fittings in Guernsey where we lived.

Over time we built the business up between us to be a great success. Of course, like most long-married couples Kevin and I had our ups and downs and working together often put on a strain on our relationship. I often found myself pestering him to get things done when it came to our heavy workload. There was one occasion when I really got fed up. For over a fortnight I’d been reminding Kevin to look on his work computer for a file that I needed to review.

“I’ll do it later,” he’d shrug, before forgetting about it again. Finally tired of hearing myself nag him, I decided to look on his computer for it myself whilst he was out at work. ‘If you want a job doing do it yourself,’ I thought to myself as I switched on his monitor. Typing the surname of the file I needed into the computer search box I was surprised to find lots of unfamiliar documents that were labelled by girls names.

Jane, Sarah, Susan, the list went on. I knew straight away that something was not quite right. These women were not our customers. I sighed at loud; disappointed that Kevin had been looking at porn behind my back. Then without thinking I clicked curiously on one of the names.

I don’t know what exactly I was expecting to see but what I saw seconds later shocked me to the core. It was an image of a young girl – a child – posed in a provocative manner. My blood ran cold. I scrolled past two more pictures before I could take it no more.

My stomach churned and the room span as I went dizzy. Unable to stop myself I vomited uncontrollably. What I had seen on Kevin’s computer had made me literally sick to my stomach. I was completely disgusted. This man was my husband. I just couldn’t ignore it, Kevin was a paedophile.

Once I’d recovered from the shock my mind began racing as to what what would happen next. Kevin would be sent to prison for a long time and I’d be left facing all of our friends and neighbours. Due to the nature of Kevin’s worked he visited a lot of houses in our local area – families with young children. I could only imagine their horror when they found out what he was. But there was no way I wasn’t going to tell the police. I just couldn’t live with myself knowing this vile secret.

Though I could barely bring myself to even look at him I knew I had to face Kevin. I decided to confront him about what I had discovered before I told the police. Trying to remain calm, although I was shaking all over, I looked him in the eye and said, “I know what’s on your computer.”

The words hung in the air. Kevin froze in his tracks and looked at me blankly. “I have seen those files Kevin,” I repeated. “You know which ones I mean.” He opened and closed his mouth realising there was no point even trying to deny it to me. After a long pause he said, “I’ll give you a divorce Karen. You can have the house if you want it. You can have everything, just don’t go to the police.” he pleaded.

He was a desperate man. I could see it in his eyes. But there was nothing he could promise me that would stop me calling the police. When they arrived, after what felt like minutes from when I put the phone down, they took Kevin away in a police car. I stayed at the house to be interviewed.

Afterwards a forensic team worked to remove all the computers and laptops from our house. Even memory cards from cameras were taken. My home was turned into a crime scene as police hunted for evidence. In the weeks after I felt too ashamed and scared to leave the house. It was like I had done something wrong.

Luckily I had a good support network of friends around me who helped to cheer me up when I felt like everything was falling apart. Desperate to cut all ties to Kevin I initiated a divorce before his court case began. The thought of being in anyway associated with him repulsed and disgusted me. The whole thing just made me feel dirty.

When Kevin did go on trial at the end of last year I attended court on the first day as a witness to give evidence against him. After that I couldn’t face it anymore. It was too much to listen to. The internet history on Kevin’s computer showed he had accessed paedophile websites and searched for pre-teen images using explicit terms. He had also visited forums about child abuse for discussion with other paedophiles.

It took jurors just 90 minutes to reach a unanimous verdict. Kevin was found guilty of having more than 1.1 million indecent images and videos of young girls. In January this year I went back to court to see him be sentenced to five years in prison. Leaving the court room knowing Kevin was now safely locked away gave me a slight feeling of closure, but at the same time I couldn’t help thinking that five years just didn’t seem long enough for what he’d done.

The truth was painful to admit but I’ve never felt for a moment any regret about telling the police about what he did. Now it’s all over I’ve decided to sell the house we lived in together. It just brings up too many painful memories for me to stay here.

I’m still haunted by what I saw that day on Kevin’s computer but for now I’m taking each day as it comes and trying to move on as best I can. Kevin’s sordid secret might have destroyed his life but I’m determined not to let it ruin mine.

—————-

Karen wanted to tell her story and help those facing a similar situation. She shared her story with Bella Magazine, who offered the most after taking part in our daily story auction.

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MY £3K COKE ADDICTION

July 15, 2013 by Sell My Story

JAKKI, 42, IS FACING A TERRIBLE ADDICTION – HERE SHE TELLS US ABOUT HER £3K (DIET) COKE ADDICTION

SHE NEVER GOES 40 MINUTES WITHOUT THE FIZZY DRINK, AND MISSING A HIT CAUSES HER TERRIBLE HEADACHES AND MOOD SWINGS.

JAKKI REVEALS THE SHOCKING SIGNS OF HER ADDICTION:

– SHE NEVER HAS LESS THAN 6 LITRES IN THE HOUSE.

– SHE GOES ON THE SCHOOL RUN WITH BOTTLES STUFFED IN HER CHILD’S PUSHCHAIR.

– SLEEPS WITH A PINT BY HER BEDSIDE SO SHE CAN GUZZLE DOWN COKE BEFORE SHE GOES TO SLEEP AND AS SOON AS SHE WAKES UP.

Coke Addiction

Reaching into the fridge Jakki, 42, clasps her shaking her hand around a cold bottle of Diet Coke. It has been just forty minutes since her last pint of the fizzy stuff.

Jakki swigs EIGHT LITRES of Coke every day and suffers from extreme headaches and mood swings if she misses a fix.

At her worst Jakki was swigging 16 LITRES of full-fat cola a day and ballooned to a size 18.

She said: “I was brought up in a pub and throughout my childhood I was surrounded by a never ending supply of Coca-Cola.

“But my parents refused to let me drink it so I used to imagine how lovely it would taste.

“We were only allowed it as a very special treat but when I was old enough to have pocket money it was spent on Coke.

“When I got my first job the first months wages went straight on fizzy pop and all the other wages after were spent in the same way. I couldn’t get enough.

“It wasn’t long before I was setting my alarm early to make sure I could go shopping in the morning and have enough Coke to get me through the day at work.”

Friends and family began to comment that Jakki was never seen without a coke in hand.

But after tipping the scales at 18 stone and unable to control her expanding waist band Jakki knew it was time to see her GP.

She said: “He advised me to make the switch to Diet Coke and then gradually wean myself of it altogether.”

But to Jakki’s horror she became even more dependent on the low calorie cola and her addiction spiralled out of control.

“Forty minutes is the absolute limit of how long I can go without it.

“The cupboard are bursting with the stuff and if my supplies ever fall to six litres I start to panic.

“I can’t face the school run without bottles of it in the bottom of the pushchair.”

Jakki reached breaking point when her four-year-old daughter questioned her addictive behaviour.

Jakki said: “I was swigging from a bottle when my little girl looked up at me and said:

“‘Mummy, why did you drink so much coke? It’s bad for you.’

“The fact that she knew it was so bad at such a young age really shocked me. I knew then that I had a problem.”

Overdosing on caffeine causes Jakki stomach cramps, shakes and sleepless nights.

She said: “I wake up about five or six times a night so I always take a pint of Diet Coke up to bed with me.

“That way a sip of coke is the last thing I have at night and the first thing I wake up to in the morning.

“I want to stop for my childrens sake but I’m frightened about what it would do to my body if I did. I need specialist help.”

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Oh My Quad!

May 31, 2013 by Harriet Rose-Gale

OH MY QUAD

EMMA, 31, AND MARTIN, 39, WERE DELIGHTED TO DISCOVER THEY WERE EXPECTING WHAT THEY THOUGHT WOULD BE THEIR SECOND BABY.

BUT AFTER A ROUTINE SCAN THEY WERE STUNNED TO DISCOVER EMMA HAD CONCEIVED QUADRUPLETS NATURALLY AT ODDS OF 750,000-TO-ONE!

I wouldn’t abort my quads

SHE WAS ADVISED AGAIN AND AGAIN TO TERMINATE TWO OF HER BABIES TO GIVE THE OTHERS A BETTER CHANCE OF SURVIVAL.

BUT THE BRAVE MUM HAD NO INTENTION OF SACRIFICING ANY OF THEM AND REFUSED. NOW SHE HAS PROOF THAT HER INSTINCT WAS RIGHT – FOUR HAPPY, HEALTHY AND UTTERLY ADORABLE ONE-YEAR-OLDS.

THE BABIES WERE EVEN BORN ON FEBRUARY 29 – A LEAP YEAR – MEANING THEY ONLY CELEBRATE THEIR TRUE BIRTHDAY ONCE EVERY FOUR YEARS, AT ODDS OF 3.5MILLION-TO-ONE!

As the sonographer squirted cold jelly on my tummy and moved the cursor across it, she fell silent.

I looked at my husband, Martin, 39, and panic swept across me.

I wondered if she was struggling to detect a heartbeat and dreaded hearing bad news.

‘Do twins run in the family?’ she asked, turning the monitor to face us.

I breathed a sigh of relief and gazed at the fuzzy black-and-white image on the screen.

A smile crept across her face, ‘There’s not just one heartbeat… I think I can hear four,’ she said.

‘Four?’ I gasped. Martin’s jaw dropped.

We had joked we might be expecting twins as my bulging bump was bursting out of my clothes already, but never in a million years had we imagined having QUADRUPLETS!

I had got the dates wrong too, at only ten weeks gone my tummy was so round.

The sonographer slowly moved the scanner, showing us three amniotic sacs and counting the babies one by one – explaining she could see one baby in two of the sacs and two – twins – in the third.

Before we had the chance to ask any questions, she disappeared to fetch doctors just to be sure.

Martin and I were left staring at each other dumbfounded, but he squeezed my hand in reassurance.

Hoping to add to our little family, with a brother or sister for our son Luke, now three, we never in our wildest dreams imagined having so many babies at once.

Three medics joined us and asked if we had had an ‘assisted’ pregnancy – using IVF treatment – or whether we had taken any fertility medicine.

Having done neither, it was hard to believe we had conceived quads naturally – especially at odds of 750,000 to one!

Suddenly we were being catapulted from a tiny family of three to a brood of seven.

We left the hospital in shock and as we walked to the bus stop hand-in-hand, I couldn’t help but worry.

‘What are we going to do?’ I asked Martin, thoughts whirling around my head.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted, ‘but whatever happens, we’ll be ok.’

We weren’t prepared, with no car and living in a tiny two-bedroom house, it seemed as if there was no way we would be able to squeeze four more little people into our lives.

As well as space, there was money to think about. How on earth would be able to afford to look after so many babies?

We spent a fortnight agonising over what to do.

But after lots of research about multiple birth pregnancies, we reached a decision – we would cope whatever the outcome.

Glued to my laptop looking up multiple births, I knew I would be risking my own health continuing and that there was a chance I might develop pre-eclampsia – dangerously high blood pressure which can lead to life-threatening seizures.

Complications including miscarriage, premature birth, low birth weight, cerebral palsy and death were also high, but we both agreed our quads deserved a chance.

Despite the astronomical odds against it, this had happened to us. So it seemed only right to let nature take it’s course.

Unable to keep our excitement to ourselves, we confided in our closest family members – my dad, Colin, 70, and Martin’s mum, Liz, 64.

Their reaction was priceless.

‘We’ve having quadruplets,’ I announced over-the-phone nervously.

Dad almost dropped the handset in shock.

‘You’re pulling my leg!’ he said stunned before bursting into a nervous laughed. It took a while for it to sink in.

Two weeks later, at our 12-week scan at St Michael’s Hospital in Bristol, the consultant congratulated us before talking us through our options.

‘You could terminate the pregnancy, reduce the pregnancy by terminating some of the embryos, or carry on and see what happens,’ he said.

Instinctively I clutched my already-showing bump. An overwhelming sense of love rushed through me.

‘We’re keeping all four,’ I whispered, finally one hundred per cent sure it was the right thing to do.

But my decision was rocked just minutes later when I had another scan.

‘It looks like one of the sacs has come away,’ we were told gently.

‘What do you mean exactly?’ I snapped.

‘It seems as if one of the babies hasn’t made it,’ he said.

My body went numb and tears streamed down my cheeks.

I knew losing one or more of the babies was a possibility, but I hadn’t considered it might actually happen.

The shock of it made me realise just how attached I was to our tiny little miracles already.

‘Oh, I’m really sorry I think I’ve made a mistake,’ the sonographer said, stopping suddenly. ‘Here’s the fourth baby and it has a heartbeat.’

An overwhelming sense of relief washed over me.

I knew I had to do all I could to bring four healthy babies into the world.

Even though we had made our minds up, each time I went to the hospital we were warned about the risks and asked to consider aborting the twins to save the other two babies.

But I knew that every time I looked at my surviving babies I’d also be thinking about the ones I’d lost. The thought of it broke my heart.

Suffering from severe morning sickness from the moment I woke up to the time I went back to bed, it was all I could do to drag myself to work.

I could barely keep my eyes open as I sat at my desk and often went for a ten-minute lie down.

I grazed on cream crackers, dried apricots and sipped ginger beer to keep the sickness and bay and just about managed to soldier on.

‘Look between the baby’s legs,’ the consultant giggled during the 14-week scan.

There was no doubting we were having at least one boy, but we couldn’t tell the sex of the others just yet.

It wasn’t until a fortnight later, we discovered we weren’t just having the one boy – but four!

After seeing the outlines of each of them on the screen, we started to think of them individually and contemplated names.

I tried to carry on as normal, but I was constantly so drained and in January, 2012, I was signed off work and told I needed complete bed rest.

I spent seven weeks laying on my side, only ever getting up to go to the loo. The boys were kicking constantly and I struggled to breathe.

Two months before my due date, I went into labour.

Reuben was the first of the quads to be delivered by caesarean section, weighing 2lb 14oz, followed by Zachary, 2lb 8oz, and his twin Joshua, 3lb 1oz, and finally Samuel, 2lb 13oz.

Every time the surgeon plucked a baby from my tummy I could hear, ‘Ah hello!’ and I felt a wave of happiness surge through me.

They arrived on 29 February, 2012 – a leap year – so will celebrate their true birthday only once every four years, at meteoric odds of 3.5 million to one!

When I was finally able to cradle their fragile bodies in my arms, I felt like the luckiest woman alive.

After two months in hospital, the boys were strong enough to be taken home.

And over the past year, Martin and I have embraced parenthood on an epic scale.

Each night the babies would wake up one after the other and start screaming.

We had to transform the lounge into a nursery and Martin and I took it in turns to sleep down there.

With four breastfeeds to organise every four hours, day and night, as well as bottles, 30 nappy changes and endless baths, life was exhausting.

And as the boys got bigger, so did the challenges – all sat in their four-seater buggy it weighs ten stone, so pushing proves a serious workout.

Our household bills have trebled since the quads arrived to £150-a-week and the boys get through 300 nappies a fortnight.

We operate on a strict schedule, planning meals, naps, bottle-feeds and playtime – it’s a military exercise.

But watching as Luke helped his little brothers tear wrapping paper and open their presents – blankets, a tent, a rocking snail and plastic musical instruments – we couldn’t be any prouder of all of our boys.

Each of them has their own personality. Zach is jolly and easy-going, Sammy sweet and sensitive, Reu is a bully – if one of them has a toy he always wants it and Josh is the boss, the naughty one who learns everything fast.

Luke is a very patient big brother and dotes on all four of the boys.

I could never have imagined having five children, let alone having quads, but now, I can’t imagine life without a single one of them. They are my everything.

ENDS

Navigation

Penis Insurance: My Boyfriend’s £12 Million Willy!

WHEN TANYA, 27, WENT ON A GIRLS NIGHT OUT TO A STRIPPER SHOW, SHE HAD NO IDEA SHE WAS GOING TO FALL IN LOVE ON THE FRONT ROW… WITH ONE OF THE STAR STRIPPERS.

My Husband Is a Paedophile

MY £3K COKE ADDICTION

Oh My Quad!

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