My Dear Smooth Sir,
I will never forget when you borrowed my razor. This wasn’t just a disposable, cheap razor either; It was one where the blades were changed once dull.
I had left it in the shower, and you spied it. Curiosity got the better of you and you tried it on your face. It seems you were rather taken with it and the closeness of the shave it gave you. The problem was you neglected to tell me that you had used it, so the next time I attempted to shave with it I gave myself a rather nasty cut. I cried out, and you hurried into the bathroom to see what the matter was, only to find my leg a bloody mess.
You were very sheepish when you confessed to using it. I forgave you, and you made it up to me. I’m sure a leg has never been kissed as much as you kissed mine to make the cut heal quickly.
Limb-ly yours,
Darling
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My Dear Hirsute Darling
How could I have caused you such an injury? What callous and thoughtless behaviour on my part.
I am sure I was just being lazy. I needed to shave. Your razor was in close proximity. Viola, problem solved.
To think I damaged a leg, your leg. The very thing I loved to run my hand along from your ankle to your waist. I was, and still am, aghast. No doubt it did provide me with a close shave. It just wasn’t fully equipped to deal with the coarseness of my facial hair.
I still feel more than a little sheepish for doing this. I don’t remember the forgiveness kisses. No doubt they were epic.
Clean Shavenly Yours
From Sir With Love
The Sir Letters 