Unspoken Provocation

My Dear Passionate Sir,

I am really not sure where we were, but I think we were at the mall. I remember we stopped for some refreshments at a café. You ordered hot beverages for both of us and some food. I was sitting at a small, round table waiting for you. There was a little ledge to my right, upon which I propped my foot.

You returned with our victuals, and we started to eat in silence. I noticed you were studying me more intently than normal.  After a few moments of comfortable silence you looked at me very seriously and said, “If you don’t put your leg down, I am going to come across this table and do you right here and now.”

I blinked and blushed furiously (as you knew I would), but I did not break eye contact; the challenge was set. I picked up my mug and took a sip as I stared back at you. I did not put my foot down. I. Kept. It. Right. Where. It. Was. I didn’t say a word, and your gaze could have seared me on the spot.

You see my dear Sir, I figured out early on that you were used to people cowering under your fierce gaze. You met your match in me, as I do not cower. That’s not to say that you didn’t have me trembling, but it was for an entirely different reason altogether. Your look was fiery, sparking, and deliberate. I welcomed your challenge.

You slowly smiled at me, and I smiled in return. Without saying a word, it was mutually agreed upon that we would be going home after we finished. We ate very leisurely. Very. Calmly.

I observed that you kept your hand on some part of my body at all times as we traveled home on the train (or did we take a cab? I don’t remember that either). What I do remember was your hand was hot wherever it touched my skin.

When we got home, that damn noise became our friend again, and we felt very dehydrated. It became so unbearably hot in your room that we both reached a state of undress. This was a win-win situation. Game. Set. Match. Love.

Feverishly yours,



My Provocative Darling

I more than fondly remember your leg perched on that ledge. It was certainly a provocative gesture. You may not have consciously thought about it, but your sub conscious was sending me very clear signals indeed (or so I chose to think).

You were not expected to cower. You were not expected to do anything. I have no doubt you knew it then as you know it now, but I was paying you a compliment. Even in public with only a slight hint of provocation you were very much sending me, along with my imagination, into sensory overload.

I have no idea where we were, what we ate or how we got home. The need to partake in some horizontal folk dancing was overwhelming. We indulged our desires of that I am sure.

It may have been March (the first month of autumn here in the land of Oz), but the bedroom was steamy for a number reasons. No doubt dehydration was a very real concern.

I can picture you still.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2014 Darling and Sir


Touchy Feely

My Dear Sir,

Do you remember how often my hands would stray to your hair? I couldn’t help myself. I loved running my fingers through it. I was always waiting for you to tell me that I did it too much; you never did though. You never complained once.

Many times while you were playing the piano for me, I would get up and stand behind you at the bench. I would massage your shoulders and neck. My fingers played with your hair. I rubbed your ears. I loved touching you. I was constantly doing it. You’d lean your head back against my shoulder and close your eyes while playing. That’s when I’d kiss your forehead and face.

My hand would wander to the back of your neck while in the car as well. It was very calming to me to touch you while driving during a long, barren stretch of road. As you stated in “Driving” your hand was always on my knee. I think we found comfort in touching each other.

There were also the few times my hand found its way to your hair during dinner if we were sitting next to each other as opposed to across the table. You’d always take my hand in yours after a while and start to kiss it while staring into my eyes. Good grief Mr. Sir you would make me melt. I can still feel your lips on my fingertips.

It’s a wonder we ever left our rooms, but I suppose we needed to eat once in a while. Oh, and get some fresh air. I wasn’t worried about the exercise though; we got plenty of that.

Lovingly and touchingly yours always,



My Tactile Darling

I do remember how much you touched me. It was a thrill every time. From that first hug at the airport, to holding your hand in the cab on the way home to our first kiss in my home later that evening. Oh how we touched.

When I played the piano? Well I am not sure how I restrained myself and if truth be told on more than one occasion I clearly did not. Your hand in my hair was the most devilish distraction. How could I hope to play?

My hand on your leg whilst driving? I could not forget that. I remember the first time I did it you exclaimed that you may not be able to concentrate. I didn’t move it an inch. It remained firmly in place for our entire time together. Your hand running through my hair as we drove; well I remember that as well. Its a wonder we even made it out my driveway.

I think what I loved best though about touching you in public (I trust you note the distinction I have made here) was holding your hand and staring into your eyes. I was like a man drowning in a sea of ecstasy.

I long to touch you again; to hold you, smell you, taste you and love you. 

I can still feel you now.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

©2013 Darling and Sir

They Don’t Build Them Like They Used To

My Dear Athletic Darling

You have told the story of meeting my mother elsewhere. At the time you met her, we were staying in what was once a beautiful boutique hotel called Casuarina Country Inn & Restaurant. It is nestled amongst over laden grape wines with a mountain range majestically dominating the skyline from our front door. The photo below just doesn’t do it justice. I know we googled it recently and read some of its reviews. It has clearly fallen on hard times and has seen better days. That was not its problem when we stayed there. When we took up residence they had nine exquisitely appointed theme suites. These were fitted out in various styles including British Empire, Australian Colonial, Japanese Imperial and even French Bordello. We however didn’t stay in one of the themed rooms though; we stayed in a self contained cottage.

Casuarina - Hunter Valley

One of the principal reasons I wanted to take you to Casuarina was to enjoy the restaurant. It was one of the few places still trading where you could experience full guéridon dining. I don’t think you were familiar with the style. I remember explaining that the chef comes to the table with the ingredients already prepared and a portable stove. They then cook your meal before your very eyes. You sometimes still see it with simple dishes such as Crepe Suzette and Steak Dianne, but it is increasingly rare if not unheard for an entire menu to be devoted to this style of service. I had dined there before and really wanted to treat to you to this spectacle. It saddens me to say I don’t remember one jot of it. I was so nervous that my mother was meeting you, that I don’t recall a thing from that meal.

Until now however I have avoided the crux of this story. What, may you ask, do they not build like they used to? I know you have the answer. If you’re not giggling right now there must be something very wrong. You know, because you laid beside me on that broken device. Having dealt with meeting my mother, we needed to blow off some steam. We adjourned to our bed, and for some reason we ended up naked. We partook in some vigorous horizontal folk dancing and the bed imploded. The bed we were “sleeping in” collapsed under the strain and there we were with our heads towards the floor and our feet in the air. Just to be clear this wasn’t a weight related structural failure. I blame you!


Casuarina - The Broken Bed - Before the Break

Back Achingly Yours

From Sir With Love


My Dear Destructive Sir,

I am blushing at the content of this letter, but I shall muddle through it.

Oddly enough I remember the Casuarina very well. The clubhouse we stayed in was huge with 3 bedrooms and vintage furniture. It was a delightful, quaint place. We had visited your father in the hospital earlier that day, and we were getting ready to go out for the evening.

I know you were extremely nervous having dinner with your mom and her friend, plus the strain of having your father in the hospital didn’t help with your anxiety. I was just happy to be with you.

I was familiar with sitting around a grill while having a chef cook dinner, but this dining experience was quite a bit different; I thank you for it. Unfortunately, I don’t recall the details of this evening either. I do remember while I was getting ready to go out, I discovered that I had brought the wrong shoes. I had left the ones I wanted back at your house in Merrylands (a suburb of Sydney). You reassured me that my shoes were fine. I never worry over shoes; your tension was rubbing off on me.

After seeing your father, we came back to our lodgings to (as you so aptly stated) blow off some steam. I remember rubbing your shoulders and your hands wandered all over my body. As things got intense, we had a shocking jolt. Our bed broke! The head of our bed had disconnected from the headboard, and we tilted! Our heads were down nearly on the floor and our feet up towards the ceiling. I was aghast, but then you started laughing hysterically. I am sure I joined in the laughing spree after I got over my embarrassment. You pushed the bed back together, and we changed rooms. I am not sure how much tension was relieved for you, but it wasn’t for lack of trying!

I love the picture of the bed pre our destruction. I am not sure if I made eye contact with you during dinner after we broke that damn bed, but you kept your hand on my knee under the table. (See a pattern- damn noise, damn bed?) Of course you blame me, I am a seductress. *wink wink*

Your partner in crime,


©2013 Darling and Sir

First Night Part 2

My Dear Virile Sir,

That first night was much more than making love; you had started to Uncover me.

After hearing the hideous noise that kind of freaked me out, you came into the spare room to sit with me and ease my mind. Neither of us had any preconceived notions. You truly were (and are) a gentleman.

You lay by my side. Your face was so full of concern for my well-being. I remember you reached out and rubbed my arm offering me comfort. Your hand came up to caress my face. You traced my lips with your finger.  I automatically turned my face towards yours, and your head came down. Your lips gently rubbed against my own – feeling and exploring. I felt you smile against them. It was the most unhurried, beautiful kiss. We loved to rub our lips together.

My tongue naturally came out and stroked your bottom lip from one corner of your mouth to the other. I felt your intake of breath and your soft groan. It exhilarated and excited me. You told me that you have committed to memory the feel of my hand on the back of your head and my fingers running through your hair.  I also remember running my tongue along your jaw line to your ear Sir, which I lightly sucked.  I kissed your cheek, your neck, and your lips again. I nibbled on and owned your bottom lip.

I vividly remember pushing you onto your back and kissing your chest so I could feel your heart beat against my mouth. It was racing under my touch. Your hands were in my hair as you arched. I lost it. I loved kissing your neck; I craved your skin.

You loved my burgundy toes. You kissed them and my feet and ankles and up my legs. If I thought your eyes glowed earlier, that was nothing compared to how they smoldered now. They blazed into mine kindling my passion and making me blush.

I don’t even recall when I became aware of your hand stroking my bare leg. Those long fingers that so beautifully play the piano lovingly played my body. The music we made was pure and raw. I couldn’t lie still. I even remember telling you that I loved your long fingers.

There are four words you said to me at that time – four words that made me pause. I misunderstood at first. Your eyes were fiery and staring into mine as you realized my confusion. You quickly cleared up my doubt then made up for it tenfold. I’m still a bit chagrin realizing my misinterpretation. I have never forgotten those words. I never will. You touched me. You branded me and made me yours.

I can see you looking down at me. You weren’t smiling, but there was so much heady emotion in your features. I responded to you, and your eyes rolled back into your head. I can still see that look.  I can feel my body reacting to the memories even now after all these years. It hasn’t waned one tiny bit.

Intensely yours,



My Luscious Darling

I never thought I would need to reply to such an intimate letter in such a public place. You have chosen your words so very carefully. It is almost as if you have thrown down the gauntlet.

That hideous noise was my blessing and my curse. You were so obviously concerned, and I so obviously flummoxed as to its cause that I thought you may never rest.

If I saw this tale unfold elsewhere my cynic’s radar would be in overdrive. “A noise?” “Rubbing your arm.” “Tracing your lips.” Then of course the “kiss.” If I hadn’t been there myself, I would suspect the careful planning of a seasoned “player.” The fact is that it was as you tell it. It wasn’t planned. It was a moment in time, both pure and real. I look back on it now and these circumstances make it even more surreal and most certainly more beautiful.

I remember you kissing me, then sucking my bottom lip. But what I remember the most was the ease of our coupling. My hand between your legs as I teased them apart. My tongue running from your ankle to your thigh then to places far beyond.  I loved to run my hand down the length of your leg, holding us together, as I gazed into your frantic eyes.

I too remember those four words. Your passion and excitement were like nothing else. I was in awe of what your body did. That I could confuse you at such a defining moment truly mortifies me. I was full of nothing but admiration, adoration, and love. You amazed me then and I will never forget. 

We had spent eighteen months waiting for our time to arrive. You were in my home, we shared a bed, and then we shared one another.  There was fire, there was passion and there was a real dynamic sexual tension. But above all else though, there was respect and there was love.

I love you my Darling, more now than ever. I must finish with the word’s that are a somewhat over quoted and a little bittersweet. The words are from Alfred Lord Tennyson poem In Memoriam. “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” Well I have loved you my Darling and you have loved me.

Sensuously Yours

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

First Night Part 1

My Dear Loveable Sir,

I’m not even sure how I can write this letter with a straight face, so I won’t fight it. I’m grinning like a Cheshire cat remembering that first night.

My internal body clock was telling me it was time to be up and moving, yet it was night time outside. What I put you through! I had taken a hot shower to wash the away the travelling feeling and to try to relax. You graciously saw me to bed and made sure I had everything I needed. Then you retired to your room to give me privacy and to try to sleep yourself. I was clean and in my pajamas and wide awake!

I am not sure how long I laid there just thinking; you know how my brain doesn’t like to shut down at night. I contemplated where I was and who I was with, and I was still processing it all. I was in Sir’s house, and Sir was in the other room! We had hugged and kissed. I was giddy beyond belief to be certain. I was the princess and pea was across the hallway.

I know I eventually drifted off to sleep, but it felt like I had just barely closed my eyes when the strangest noise awoke me. It wasn’t just because I was in a strange house where I wasn’t used to its sounds; this noise was freaky and a bit scary. After waiting what seemed like ages, I heard it again. I wasn’t sure what I should do. I decided to bite the bullet and go wake the sleeping giant in his lair.

I crossed the hall and softly called your name from the doorway (which you left open so you could hear me in case I needed you). You immediately arose and came to me asking what was wrong. I told you about the noise. You followed me into your spare room and sat with me on the bed. We waited. And we waited. And waited some more. The noise never happened again at least not that night (we figured out what it was another night and that is a story in itself). I am sure you thought I was imagining things at that point, but you were too much of a gentleman to say it out loud. I was feeling a bit foolish by this time anyway.

You decided to lie next to me in my bed and talk to me to soothe my frazzled nerves. I wish I could say that it was all a clever ruse to get you in my bed (ha), but that wasn’t the case at all. You worried and fretted over me. I felt completely protected.

This night is very memorable in more ways than one, and you Sir know why. It was a new chapter of us.

Fervidly yours,



My Jet Lagged Darling

I remember that first night vividly. As you know there are multiple reasons for that, many of which will never grace these pages.

Yes you were standing in my home. My American sweetheart, jet lagged, emotionally charged and incredibly beautiful was here with me. I was a happy man.

You had showered and readied yourself for bed. I knew you were wired, but you clearly needed sleep. I had made up the spare room for you. While I wanted nothing more than to never spend a moment apart from you, I wanted you to feel safe and secure and not be worried by any unwanted demands of your host. You needed a safe place to call your own.

That damn noise, I can’t believe it. If I had known that was all it would take to drive me into your arms, I would have ensured it started a heck of a lot earlier. I am laughing out loud here, because I now know the cause. But at the time I was as perplexed as you were.

Yes I did lay next to you on your bed. It seems like such a contrivance reading it now. I was totally innocent I swear. That first night together, it is seared in my memory. Lying next to you in that darkened room was amazing. I was experiencing a tactile overload. You were mine to touch, kiss, stroke and hold. I could smell you. I could gaze lovingly into your eyes. There is no need to draw a diagram about what logically happened next. Suffice it to say that you never needed to sleep in my spare room again, and you never did.

You were in Australia, in my house and by my side. The next chapter in our incredible journey had well and truly begun.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

Sir Rogue

My Dear Sir,

The occasion I am going to talk about in this letter I believe happened the first full day I was with you. We were in your living room taking it easy as I adjusted to the new time zone, and I picked up a photograph album. I casually flipped through the pages. I was asking you who people were in the pictures. I wanted to share your life with you, and that included your friends. You closed your eyes, inhaled deeply, muttered something under your breath (quick prayer maybe?), came over and sat next to me, and said, “Let’s just get this over with.”

I am giggling now, because that was so you. You knew that in a few pictures – many of those pictures there were women you’d been with sexually and you wanted to face it head on. So in grand Sir-style you decided to hold my hand and temper the storms while you confessed your past. You were going to preempt any questions I may or may not have asked. I assure you Sir, I would never! (Still giggling here)

I can see you in my mind’s eye physically cringe when you affirmed with a “Yep.” You watched my face ever so carefully while the grand total kept climbing. You appeared chagrin and  somewhat repentant and even a tad bit defensive. You wanted no secrets between us, no skeletons to creep out of the closet, and to remove all doubt in my mind how you felt about me. You had forsaken all for me. You were willing to sit there and face potential censure; I loved you for it.

In some ways we were very much similar (still are), and in other ways we were as different as night and day. I loved you then and I love you now for all your faults. I love your intelligence and higher level of thinking. I am amazed at all your strengths. Your talents fill me with pride. Your tenderness and love leave me weak and breathless and, as you well know – stuttering-ly stupid (inside joke).

I accept everything about you. I love all the torn and tarnished pieces that make up you. There is only one Sir. Only one.

With all humility,



My Humble Darling

What on earth do I say to such a post? Yes I had some ex girlfriends. Yes I had a pictorial record of some of them. I was then now, and am to this day, in contact with some of them. Purely platonically I might add.

The one thing I am mighty sure of was that I did not do this to preempt any questions you might have. You had already asked all the questions! I had answered them truthfully. You tell this tale like you were some innocent who never knew I had such a colourful past. If I didn’t know better my love I would swear you were trying to manipulate the truth for your own ends (smiles). It reminds me of behaviour I would expect from a certain English acquaintance of yours.

Oh I know this would have been quite the visual reinforcement for you. To see them there staring back at you from the page would not be easy, just as it was not easy for me to show you. I did want then, as I still want now, to be completely honest with you. I know that brings some pain in the short term but it’s much healthier than finding out something you weren’t expecting later.

I am humbled that you can look beyond my chequered past. We are the same in many ways but as we both know there are some quite glaring fundamental differences in our make up. I have never doubted, before or since, that you were prepared to accommodate them and so was I.

I love you now and I loved you then my Darling, even if I am a rogue.

You Will Always Be Me Darling

From A Roguish Sir With Love


My Dear Reformed Sir,

I am sure I can’t even begin to presume your motives in pointing out the 2-D proofs of your past dalliances. You are correct though. We had the “talk” about our pasts before I even left my country, but to be quite fair I never gave it much thought until yours was staring up at me from the pages of a photo album.

You know as well as I do, Mr. Sir, that one cannot simply manipulate you. I pity the poor fool/s who even make such an attempt (English acquaintances included). I am giggling at the thought of personally trying. You’d just throw your head back and laugh that infectious laugh of yours.

You said something this morning on the phone that brought tears to my eyes. I had stated that I had wished you had married someone (instead of the cow you did) that would have made me pale in comparison – someone who added upon and not took away from your small family i.e. you and your parents. You immediately responded that there wasn’t such a woman – that no one compared to me and never would. You are not one for false praise or pretense. I am the one who is humbled.

I don’t care about your past with the exception of the small part I was able to share with you. I only want you to be happy and healthy and to never forget how deeply I love you.

Painstakingly yours,


©2013 Darling and Sir