I couldn’t wait for Friday to arrive, finally. Those pairs of treacle tarts would both be getting a proper seeing to at the weekend. My wife had the painters in, so by Saturday morning, my bollocks were like a couple of bowls of dirty dishwater. I was up bright and early, tackle washed and a splash of Brut 45 behind each ear. “See you later, duchess,” I said to my wife before checking myself out one last time in the mirro...

I was walking along the high street, minding my own business, on one Saturday morning, carrying two handfuls of shopping bags. All of a sudden and quite out of the blue, my Jean button popped open, and my huge dick swung free. “Oh no I cried,” I was totally embarrassed and didn’t know what to do next. Just then, I heard a voice saying, “Come with me, my apartment is over there. I will help you.” I was speechless. This stu...

If you’ve enjoyed reading my true account of life with Rachel, you'll hopefully enjoy the next instalment of my rollercoaster life on this earth. On this occasion, I intend to share what life threw my way as the worst of my grief finally subsided. Once again, I hope my writing will be cathartic for me, provide amusement and entertainment, and offer insight into the worst of human behaviour. If men can be sluts then I stan...