Title Changed - Oops

---

I may have violated the One Minute Writer terms with this post so I have changed the title but left a link back to the site. Hopefully the author of One Minute Writer can straighten me out. Sorry if I bad.

UPDATED Sunday, Nov 16
See The One Minute Writer

Line Erased - Click on link above.

+/- Click For My Answer

Platform shoes - at least I think that is what they were called. My wife at the time bought me some; patent leather brown and white with three inch heels and two inch souls. I got vertigo when I tried to walk and very difficult to drive with and forget riding the Harley - I almost got pulled off when I put my shoe down too soon. I only had one pair of pants I could wear with them - big wide bell bottoms - I thought those were 'neat'.

Hers were platform boots - knee high with laces from top to bottom - patent leather black. Took her twenty minutes to lace them up. Don't remember how high the heels were but there was one thing I liked about them. Just one.

We were height mis-matched. When I stood behind her I was about fours inches too high and it was very difficult to do that one thing even if she wore high heels or stood on a step.

Her boots gave her the needed boost and as long as I was san-shoes, we fit together beautifully - one of our favorite positions - boy could we dance good. :)

The one good part of our marriage was when she came out of the bedroom wearing her boots - she had thrown the laces out much earlier. It was her way of saying 'come and get it'. Too bad it was the only way she liked it.

But I still say they should never come back - they belong in death with Disco.

UPDATE Sunday, Nov 16: I didn't think my new 'piece of ass joy' paid much attention to my blogs. She made her weekly visit last evening and we talked and watched the news for a bit then she told me to get my head out of it's usual place, acted like she was mad about something (seems to be happening more often lately) and left the room.

I was trying to figure out what I said or did wrong and wondered how far I'd have to open my wallet this time. She asked if I had plenty of nitro spray for my black heart (I knew I was in for big trouble because we love to argue have intellectual discussions) and when she told me to get it she walked out in a pair of boots with at least five inch heels and NOTHING, NOTHING else.

Then she cupped both breasts and asked how I liked these jugs or did I prefer knockers? (See this post)

I could not stop smiling but I was smart and shut my mouth AND grabbed something but it was not my nitro spray. My heart was working just fine, just fine, She asked how I knew and I showed her how well my heart was pumping blood (BIG SMILE).