Caustic Sada

Cautic is back again with her own unique Agony Aunt advice.

Q. Some time ago, whilst on the way back from visiting relatives by the coast, my car gave a hop and a stutter and I was forced to pull over in a leafy lay-by where I proceeded to kick my tyres, as I bent myself double trying to get reception on my mobile. Just as I had given up hope and I prepared my thumb for a good old fashioned hitching, a slightly overweight, balding and blinged up lorry driver stepped out from his cab and offered us his assistance. I don’t know if it was the rough Yorkshire accent, the swallow tattoo or the smell of diesel that did it, but before I knew it I was cuddled up in the cab with my knickers round his CB, getting to grips with a big 10-4.

Afterwards, feeling somewhat flustered as my new found friend examined my big end and got my back on the road, I agreed to meet my grimy grease monkey for another traffic side tryst and have been seeing him regularly ever since.

Problem is, I am married and my husband is getting suspicious of my late night trips to ‘Tesco’ and has recently found copies of Truck Driving Weekly. Our sex life has gone downhill as its just not the same without a gear knob stuck in your back and a hand break against your head, what should I do, leave my hubby for a life on the road or convert the box room in a Bedford Rascal?

A. We’re quite the slut aren’t we? There’s nothing wrong with a bit of rough every now and again, dear, but things really have gone too far. We have to examine what is turning you on here; is it sex with the poor or perhaps it’s the intimacy of the motor vehicle that gets your quim quivering?

First try having sex in a normal place – the kitchen, stairs or, for novelty, try the bed. However make sure you do this with someone homeless and preferably a bit smelly. If you’re still as sparky as a box of matches after that, then I can recommend a good therapist – you need one. If however, this fails to relight your fire then amuse yourself with a jaunt and a jump in the family car – it may not be an eighteen wheeler but you can still perform a trick or two in a Vauxhall Nova believe me. I can feel it in my whiskers that a quick tumble against the parcel shelf will have you feeling right as rain and you’ll forget all about your Lay-by Lothario.

Q. For some time now I have been having lustful thoughts about my Great Aunt and its getting to the point that I am finding it hard to control myself. Ever since I was a child, the sight of her reaching up for her cami knickers on the washing line and seeing a glimpse of corned beef calf under her tabard has sent my legs to jelly. Now as I have reached adulthood, I have become more and more fixated on her and recently risked all by playing footsie under the dinning room table at a family gathering. I think she thought it was the dog, as when I started getting braver in my fumblings she complained about its wet nose.

Oh Caustic, how do I pluck up the courage to reveal my true feelings to my femme fatale family member and let her know who’s been stealing her knickers?

A. Oh what a to do, I really don’t know where to start – I mean cami knickers who wears those anymore? After giving your problem my full attention – well for all of 30 seconds anyway – I have come to the conclusion that you are a sick and deranged sexual deviant – have we dated? If you insist on travelling on this doomed course of love I have only one recommendation – do not wear a condom. Hopefully you will inseminate your dear old aunt and produce a freak child, which Benetton would be sure to snap up for their next advertising campaign. Alternatively, you could sell the one eyes little beast to the circus so people can graze upon the produce of your ugly love forever.