The Craziest Place I've Ever Made Love

I say "made love"  instead of "had sex" or "f***ed" because it was so romantic you could write a crappy book about it and sell it to deprived housewives.

Not necessarily "crazy" but people were counting mountains and forests so this counts. It was the most memorable intimate moment of my life, not just because it was bodice-ripper perfect, but because thanks to my vaginismus, it was the first time in my marriage that we actually consummated it.

The Cliff House in San Francisco was once a hugely popular resort until it burned down. Now it's a series of stone walls right at the edge of the ocean. It's closed at night but like most people we wandered around it in the dark, anyway. A full moon reflected across the water and huge waves crashed against the stones beneath us. I was even wearing a skirt.