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I'm not a gambling man, but this was the surest bet I'd ever come across. I mean, OK, so the stake was my wife, but that's precisely the point, isn't it? Who would know her better than me?

Let me set the scene.

My wife Katya and I are in our early thirties and have been married for 10 years. Katya's been known to everyone as Kitty for most of her life, the nickname coming from her younger sister who hadn't been able to say her name properly. I'm a fairly average looking guy, but she could be described as pretty much the classic 1950s bombshell at a petite 5'4, just under 10 stone with a wonderful figure. We met during our first year of university and hit it off straight away. She'd had plenty of offers to go out with other guys, but our similar upbringing in quite traditional, religious families, meant we had lots in common. We married shortly after we finished our courses, and were each other's first sexual partners. Sure, we'd had a fairly sheltered upbringing, but we loved each other and, just like our relationship, everything went perfectly.

And then... about six months ago, Matt, a very good friend of mine from secondary school invited me on his stag weekend to Amsterdam. Some of the things I saw there were eye-opening to say the least, but the worst bit about the whole weekend was David, one of my friend's colleagues from the big investment bank they worked at. David was everything I'm ...

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