A few years ago we took on a case of a young man who'd been seriously injured in an industrial accident not of his making. The firm was clearly at fault but they denied liability and so the matter was going to trial. I was the instructing solicitor.

The young man had spent several weeks in hospital, and was eventually discharged as an out-patient, and he returned to live in his flat in the town. The flat was on an upper floor and was accessed by a lift, so no problem for his wheelchair. It looked as if the damage was permanent and that he would be wheelchair bound for the rest of his life (this diagnosis has since changed and they think he might make a partial recovery and be able to walk a little). He was having daily physiotherapy and a care worker came in twice a day to help him get up and showered etc., and again at night. During the day he could fend for himself by making cups of tea and using the microwave. His mother came by just about every day anyway and often cooked for him.

He was brought down to the office on a couple occasions to see me, and it soon became apparent that our offices were not really suitable for wheelchair access. We had to get the car park attendant and one of our own chaps to lift the chair up a couple steps to get him in. Once in, he was okay.

I wasn't aware of this problem at first, but once I knew about it I said that in future I would come to him - he only lived about half a mile or so from the office and it was a pleasant walk through the town.

We eventually got a court date and I therefore had to ensure that he was well prepared for any awkward questions the defence would put to him during his evidence. As is usual in these cases the defence would go to extreme lengths to apportion blame in whole or in part on the aggrieved party. I duly made an appointment to go and see him.

I arrived at his place, and his carer was just leaving so she let me in. I went into his flat and found him in his dressing gown sitting on the two seater settee . He explained that he'd just had a shower and really couldn't be bothered to change, which I could fully understand because I am the worlds expert at inactivity after a bath or shower.

I settled down in the chair opposite him and got out my files and after a bit of a chat we started in on the question and answer session I'd prepared. It was all going reasonably well until I challenged him about his disability (don't forget I was playing devil's advocate in that I was prepping him for cross examination by the other side). He looked visibly shaken at the question and asked me if really thought he was faking. It all got a bit emotional and he started to well up.

I couldn't just sit there so got up to get his tissues and then sat down next to him and started drying his eyes with them. I calmed him down a bit and then decided that enough was enough for one day. The worst bit was over and the rest could wait until tomorrow or the day after.

I sat with him chatting for about ten minutes or so. I was holding his hand all this time, being motherly I suppose (after all I was at least 20 years his senior), when I noticed that his dressing gown had started to come open below the waist and that he had the start of an erection! He saw me staring and looked down and went into a blind panic as he tried to cover himself up. Oh God what a mess this was turning out to be. Stupidly I asked him if that was my fault and he said he was sorry but couldn't help it. He looked so pitiful that I put my arm around him and gave him a cuddle and a peck on the cheek.

Anyway to cut a long story short, we ended up cuddling and I got lots and lots of cum all over my hand! I had to clean him (and me) up afterwards with the tissues, and then went to the bathroom to get a flannel and towel for him.

Afterwards I was left wondering how he managed in the shower. Presumably his carer helps him. She's much younger than me - strange .

The hearing commenced on the Monday afternoon, and when we reconvened the following morning at 10 am the other side capitulated and made a very generous offer of compensation, which he accepted. We all adjourned to the nearest pub for a few drinks and lunch by way of celebration.

The party broke up at about 2.30 and I got a taxi to take him home and went with him to make sure he was okay. Once inside we went into his living room where he settled himself on the settee and I went into the kitchen to make us some much needed coffee. His carer had left and wasn't due back until around tea-time, so we had the place to ourselves. Coffee was served and consumed within about 30 mins, and we then sat and chatted. He got a bit emotional and we hugged, and one thing led to another I'm afraid.

To cut a long story short we kissed a little and he rubbed my tummy over my blouse. I undid a few buttons for him and gave him access to some bare flesh. Didn't take him long to wander up to my boobs so I offered to remove my bra for him, which I did (rather unladylike contortions).

My nipples were hard as rock and I leaned over him so he could suck one and fondle the other. After a few minutes of this I got his willy out and gave him a hand job, and he came within a couple of minutes. This was just as well because if he'd held out a bit longer I might have let him go a bit further. Bit of an anti-climax (forgive the pun ).

I helped him clean up with some wet wipes and tissues whilst he played with my saggy old boobs, and then I got dressed and caught a taxi home. I promised him that I'd keep in touch.