Dear so called fucking CumGirl bitch

I'm furious. Fuming. Livid. I've just spent the last three hours with my wand massager pressed hard against my angry clit in the hope that it will calm me down enough to be able to write and tell you what a fucking disgrace you are. 

I hate you. How could you? That poor girl recommending that she spends the rest of her life as some form of bimbo slave slut for the patriarchy. How would you like it? No, don't answer that, a cunt like you would crawl over the bones of her sisters just to worship some filthy piece of man cock. You're despicable. You're the dog shit on the bottom of my shoe, the scum on my coffee, the spittle on my computer screen from where I've been raging at your awfulness. 

If you were here now, do you know what I'd do to you? I'd flay every inch of your flesh until you sobbed and begged for forgiveness, I'd (sorry reader but I've had to redact this bit as it involves something rather nasty with me and a metal spike) and then I'd (nope, can't have that bit either because that's too awful for words) and (you really shouldn't do that with a baseball bat; redacted). That would teach you. That's what you deserve. You're nothing but a whore prostituting yourself for the pleasure of loathsome men.

You are the Devil's spawn. 

I hope you rot in purgatory for all eternity. A plaything for demons to torment; three at a time, fucking all your holes with their spiked penises, lashing your skin with their tails, roasting in hell's sulphurous flames as they gouge your flesh with their sharpened horns. 

You're a traitor to the sisterhood. I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. In fact I wouldn't piss on you even if you begged me to piss on you, fire or no fire. You'd love that, wouldn't you bitch. Me pissing on you. Golden showering your cunt face. Exactly the sort of thing that turns on a frigid, heartless slut like you. But it ain't gonna happen. No. Never. I won't let you between my legs ever. Not with your vicious, forked, serpent-like barbed tongue. Never. 

Fuck you. 

Twinkle Bellweather

Hi

Thank you for your kind message. I am currently on holiday for two weeks but as soon as I return I will read all my messages and reply to them as soon as I am able. 

If however you are suffering from unbearable stress and tension may I suggest that you find yourself a nice quiet room, close and lock all doors and windows, pull the curtains shut, and enjoy the darkness.

Settled?

Now seat yourself on a classic straight backed chair, cuff your ankles to the legs to keep yourself safe and secure, and duct tape a wand massager to your inner thigh with the head pressed firmly against your swollen clit/ball sac (obviously this depends on your genetic sex, I am not suggesting for one minute that you have both a clitoris and a pair of balls, though if you do, whoppee, well done you).

Now you really don't want a battery wand massager, this is not the time to economise, let's go top of the range mains powered. You know it makes sense.

Feeling a bit more relaxed yet?

Pull a hood over your head and allow yourself to descend into the welcoming embrace of darkness as the massager throbs delightfully at your taut, tense flesh. Cuffing your wrist is a pleasant but optional extra. 

Settle yourself in. Let your mind drift into nothingness as your body jerks and twitches beneath the massager's loving caress. Don't worry, I'll be back in two weeks and I'm sure everything will seem much better by then. 

Hugs

CG

Xxx

Dear CumGirl

Thanks for your advice. Feeling much better now. 

Huggles

Twinkle Bellweather

And people say this Agony Aunt stuff is complicated. Pish and nonsense. Logs, falling and beavers. Or do I mean Piss up, stoats and brewery. Well one of them anyway. Right, now that's sorted, I'm off to have a Mint Julep before heading to Bedfordshire. 

Oh I know, isn't it the one about badgers rolling in barrels. That might be it. Nightee.