Andy and I were old flames with a serious history of rampant sessions, so when he called to say he was in town for the night, I was more than happy to meet up with him again. After a few drinks, it was apparent that the juices still flowed rather too freely, so we wandered back to his place for a 'coffee'.

Always the gentleman, Andy insisted on several hours of foreplay then produced a vibrator. Giggling and squealing ensued. After hours of fun, we eventually got down to full-on shagging, working our way through a couple of packs of condoms, which he slobbishly disposed of on the floor.

Morning came too quickly (unlike him), and soon it was time for him to catch his train back. We decided to have one last shag before he left. On went the condom. He leaned over me and was just about to put it in when he yelled "Call me an ambulance!" Not what I expected, I figured he was joking - until I saw the pain on his face and rapidly shrinking dick. Apparently, he'd got a history of dislocating his shoulder and putting weight on it could pop it out of its socket.

There then came the dilemma of how to move from underneath him without further dislocating his shoulder. This wasn't helped by my difficulty in breathing (me: 5' 6 and slim, him: 6' 4 and stocky) After much struggling, I escaped to the phone.

"Hi, I'd like an ambulance please".

"Why?"

"My friend's dislocated his shoulder"

"How?"

The operator tried not to laugh. She failed.

After twenty minutes, the ambulance crew arrived. Iíd just about managed to divest him of his condom and get him into his boxers. The crew came upstairs, took one look at him, near-naked and groaning, glanced around the condom-littered room and smirked. Then I noticed the vibrator in the middle of the floor. Trying to nonchalantly throw a sweatshirt over a vibrator without raising any suspicions doesn't work. Especially when it starts buzzing.

By the time we got to the hospital, the ambulance crew had proudly announced their find to the entire ambulance staff, who were openly laughing as we walked past. He got asked by five separate consultants how the mishap occurred. I got redder and redder.

The final straw was when the female doctor walked into the cubicle. Taking one look at his sweaty and semi-clad form, she commented "It's a good thing this didn't happen five minutes later". He was too off his head on anaesthetic to respond. I tried desperately to look unconnected to the whole incident.

On the plus side, for the next month, he was laid up in bed totally helpless. And although he took a lot of convincing, we finally got to have that one last shag without dislocating anything else...