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It is only now, when I look back over the many stories I have compiled, that I am beginning to realize the extent to which my life has been governed by extreme sexual experience. It is almost as if God had singled me out at birth as a terrestrial beta site, to monitor the effects on the human condition of aggravated sexual opportunity.

Whether or not you the reader, can accept the truth of this latest disclosure, matters not one iota. The fact is, that despite all the attending circumstances and the ensuing marital dysfunctionality, THAT particular evening remains a searing indictment of human weakness but equally, the hottest sexual encounter I have ever had the dubious privilege of participating in - and that to include the machinations of "Harper Valley."

Heading into my late twenties, my wife of some five years was only twenty-two and with still the body, aura and in many ways naivety, of a young girl. We had one daughter who at the time was almost four. She has no part in this recollection, I hasten to add.

The previous year, Melissa had miscarried late and had taken it badly. Blaming as some girls do, especially in the absence of any other cause - herself, the marriage had since been negotiating some rocky highways and byways. Back then we lived in the beautiful Blue Mountains in Sydney's west - some four thousand feet above sea-level in an enormous though some might say risky old home built on a steep cliff-face that ...

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