I gawped at Coleen Rooney looking all glossy on TV. And I made a decision, right there and then. When I grow up, I want to be a footballer’s wife, I thought.
I loved the perfect make-up, designer gear and flash holidays. But I was only eight years old and my life couldn’t have been more different.
I had a bunch of brothers, didn’t own a single dress and ran around helping with farm work. Hardly glamorous!
Though I was top of my class for English, I ended up leaving school at 15, and going from one job to another. Waitressing, stacking shelves, cleaning, childcare – I did the lot.
I was working in a hospitality job at a posh hotel in 2020 when lockdown hit, and 
I ended up getting furloughed.
Desperate to make some extra money, the only job going was as a delivery driver and I wasn’t going to work 12 hours a day for minimum wage. So, I made a drastic decision. 

Staring at myself in the mirror one night, I thought, ‘Hey, I’m sexy…Why the heck am 
I sleeping with blokes for free when I can get paid for it’? And just like that, aged 18, I became a sex worker.
I snapped a sexy photo of myself, put it online and the bookings rolled in – I even got myself a driver to take me safely from client to client. 
Because it was still lockdown, we had to improvise a bit. My first client bent me over a washing machine in a grungy laundrette.
He must have been in his 30s, and was drunk and slobbering everywhere, but 
I just focused on the £150 he was paying.

Another wanted to have sex in his children’s playhouse in his back garden. I realised I had to grow a tough stomach and a thick skin – and fast.
But as long as I was safe and happy, my loved ones didn’t kick up a fuss.  
I worked at sex parties, then realised I could make more money by sharing adult content, and tried OnlyFans before switching to its rival Fantasi. 
Not long after I turned 22, I had a jaw-dropping request.
A sex party organiser hired me for a do, and when other organisers got wind, they decided to hire me too.
Next thing I knew, I’d been booked for a total of 13 gang bangs over a six-day period! 
I’d be taking in pubs, clubs and private homes across London and the Midlands – all comers welcome!
‘We normally get around 30 blokes turn up,’ explained one organiser. ‘But we won’t know numbers until the actual day.’
‘OK, count me in,’ I agreed, thinking of all that lovely cash. 
Day one of my six-day sex tour began at a shabby flat in East London at 10am in the morning.
The organisers spent the first part of the morning thrashing out all the dos and don’ts – including that myself and all the blokes would be tested for any STDs before there was any action.
That first day, 15 blokes turned up.
There was also a ‘fluffer’ – someone hired to get the blokes excited before they got to me.
She was a blonde, middle-aged lady and once she got the men in the mood, they crowded round the double bed where I was lying down stark naked.

There was etiquette to be followed – even in a gang bang – and only five blokes were allowed on the bed with me at any one time.
They had three minutes each to actually do the deed, then once everyone in the room had had their turn, they could come back for seconds – and thirds.   
The guys loved to watch and they all huddled round rather than queue up.
I was actually really turned on and loved every minute of that first hour.
But then my mind began wandering to what I was going to have for dinner that night. 
After all, there are only so many different positions you can do to jazz things up!
And I didn’t talk to any of them as they huffed and puffed away. 
When we’d been going at it for around two hours, we had a toilet and lunch break for around 45 minutes, then went back at it.
As one middle-aged bloke panted away on top of me, I caught sight of his wedding ring.
Does his wife know where he is? I wondered.
Every two hours, we’d take another break and the blokes who were resting would play cards or have a drink in the background. It was a real party atmosphere. 
Over those next days, my sex tour went from venue to venue.
I was averaging between 10 and 30 blokes a day and word must have got out.
On day five, at a pub, a whopping 65 blokes turned up!
My mouth dropped open as they just kept coming. They were from all backgrounds and all ages, and we even had some outdoors action in the pub garden. 
That day, I had to have seven breaks in between proceedings.
But when it was finally over, I felt fine, with zero soreness thanks to constant squirts of lubricant. 
I even went out clubbing that night – and had sex with a bloke I met. 

On the last day of the tour, two other girls joined me to help cater to the clientele, and when the day ended, we totted up that I’d had sex with 200 blokes in six days! 
When my mates asked how much money I’d made, I just smiled sweetly and said, ‘Enough!’
Work just kept rolling in. 
One client even asked me, ‘Will you trump in my face?’ 
To be honest, I didn’t know if I could rustle up enough wind, but being lactose intolerant, I just downed loads of chocolate milk and ended up parping like a trouper.
But I have my boundaries, mind – I refused to reciprocate, for example!
A few months on, I’m still living my best life, and still post content on the Fantasi site. 
As you can imagine, I get both compliments and hate when I post stuff online. 
I’ve had people tell me I’m disgusting and I can’t pretend it doesn’t affect me sometimes.
Occasionally, a bloke will approach me in the street and say he’s seen me online, but they’ve only ever shown me love in person. 
My dream is to retire when I’m 30 and I’m always super-careful with money. I want to buy a house, and create wealth, not waste it on designer dresses. 
The only stuff I splash out on are latex dresses and they’re purely for work.
My job can be dangerous and there are a lot of negatives that go along with it.
I’m not one of those people who call it ‘empowering’. 
If any girls ask me how to get into the industry, I tell them not to be silly and to stick to their day job. 
I’m in it for one thing and one thing only – and that’s the money, honey!