The High Heel

A high heeled woman doth lure me without fail.
My mast climbs high, flaunts its full sail.
Naturally, higher heels donned spur me off the scale.
Open-toed
Closed mode
Sharp pointed stilettos.
Mow me down too you gossamer mesh net toes.
Red painted nails, bare round heels, slides you see.
Mules yes, jungle hot leopard hide faux, it better be.
Designer ones, mucho dough and not paid by me, no way.
Spaghetti strap types never cause woe in my fevered eye.
Prim secretaries in three inch pumps inciting me. Oh my.
Tart's shoes exciting glee, always my cup of tea.
Harlot's clear Lucite, the bee's knees, yes Sir.
Open backed spikes, yes, again these stiletto ones.
Come fuck me pumps call "cock fuck me, pump your prick".
Without fail, all doth the trick a high heeled woman.