Opening up about her controversial work, sex surrogate therapist Lily explains the impact of the TV show Virgin Island and what her role truly involves when a client shows interest
When Channel 4’s provocative new series Virgin Island hit screens last month, it promised to break taboos and explore the very edges of intimacy. What it didn’t expect was to ignite a real-world ripple effect – particularly for one woman in Bristol, who is now seeing her inbox flooded with enquiries from men who, until recently, didn’t even know her profession existed.
Lily, 41, says she “earns thousands” as one of the UK’s few surrogate sex therapists – and since Virgin Island aired on TV, her work has seen a dramatic spike in interest. “I received quite a lot of requests after the show, because a lot of people didn’t realise it was a thing,” she recalls. “I now have so many requests. In the USA it’s more common, but here it’s still a bit of a mystery.”
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Unlike traditional sex therapy – which focuses on conversation, behavioural techniques and cognitive approaches – surrogate sex therapy involves direct physical intimacy as part of therapeutic treatment. The aim is to help individuals overcome issues like erectile dysfunction, anxiety, lack of sexual confidence and trauma around touch by practising intimacy in real life, with the help of a trained surrogate partner.
As controversial as it is misunderstood, surrogate therapy is legal in the UK but remains unregulated – and often hidden from the public eye. That is, until Virgin Island came along.
Healing tool
Virgin Island featured 12 men and women in their twenties and thirties confronting sexual inexperience, often rooted in deep emotional barriers. The show offered a rare window into the world of sex surrogacy, with therapists guiding participants through physical intimacy as a healing tool.
Viewers were gripped, the concept went viral, and suddenly therapists like Lily were inundated. “I only watched one episode,” Lily says. “But it’s a good concept for a show to give popularity to surrogate therapists at home.”
For Lily, the journey into surrogate therapy was personal. She had a background in counselling and sex therapy, having studied both at university, and first started working with clients online. But it was a real-life encounter with a friend that changed everything.
“He was in his 30s, not a virgin, but he was finding it hard to have sex,” she recalls. “We were friends at first, then I suggested he try to have sex with me so he knows how it works, to show him the experience hands-on. That’s how it started.”
After seeing how much the session helped him, she realised there was a significant gap in the UK and that she had the tools to fill it. Since 2020, she’s worked with around 40 to 50 clients, almost all men. Most of Lily’s clients are middle-aged men, though she sees men from their mid-20s to 60s. The common thread isn’t virginity – but shame, anxiety or deep insecurity around sex.
“Many men confessed traditional counselling didn’t help them and I was their last hope,” she says. “The most common issues are erectile dysfunction, lack of confidence and never feeling good enough.”
Paid consultation
Some clients book just one session. Others return for months. A typical session lasts at least two hours and costs around £300 to £400. Most take place at a private therapy home or an apartment, after a paid consultation to ensure mutual understanding and safety.
“I understand the risk. Some people struggle with anxiety or mental health issues, but so far I’ve not felt unsafe,” Lily says. She emphasises that it’s not always about sex. “I also offer massages, so it’s possible to combine things. Sometimes, the client just needs to be touched in a respectful way.”
Recently, Lily has been shifting focus to what she calls “sex profiling.”
“It’s a full analysis of a person’s sexual needs. It can help people discover what they want. I want to concentrate on that. I haven’t stopped surrogate therapy completely – if people need it, I will still do it.” Lily now has a registered trademark to set her apart from surrogate therapists, and offers personal guidance and different methods to improve sexual wellbeing. But the emotional weight of the work, paired with the demand, has prompted her to consider focusing on digital solutions.
Surrogate therapy often raises eyebrows but for many, like Lily, it’s a legitimate and necessary form of care. “I felt like I could help people and improve their sexual health,” she says. “I’ve had men cry because they didn’t think they’d ever feel close to someone in that way.”
To critics, Lily responds, “They don’t see the transformation, the release, the confidence. This isn’t sex work, it’s healing.”