The fog is thick and heavy tonight, not unlike my clit, which is still throbbing from all the excitement.

The passion cramps are flowing through me, shuddering across my \”little red corvette\” through the rest of my body, spreading down my legs which are somewhat numb and tingling at the very nerves. It\’s not from the music, but it may as well be.

Watching the noise pollution wall slide by like the rest of the night, wondering where all the time went. Where did it all go, minute after minute, shuddering sigh after clenched vaginal spasm? All gone too soon.

If I never have another orgasm again, I\’ll be happy.

Rev and Vega. Young men have stamina, but the thing about old men is they have experience and pizzazz. So what if I have a daddy complex? So what if they collapse sweating on top of me after two gos, spent and breathing hard, their grey hair soaked from the exertion? So what if they are old enough to be my father, and treat me like arm candy with a brain? So what, so what I ask? This is the epitome of sex — tight black, hoodie, sunglasses in the dark, throbbing beats with synths made in heaven. This is music sexualized. This is my orgasm gone auditory. This is the completion of a five month foreplay session, waiting, waiting, waiting for the release.

I lost my cell phone. My ears are ringing. My eyes are burning. My mascara is running. My legs would be gone were it not for the waves of burning, tingling oddness that takes me over whenever I become ill. My arms are heavy. My throat is sore. I am more tired than I have been in weeks.

But I did it.

I went.

I heard them.

I saw them.

I am not sure what would be more of a fulfilling night — to dominate them, or submit to them. Jen was right — I would have to let myself be my natural self and be a switch, having the best of both worlds while I take them both. At once. On stage. In tight black jeans. With the world watching.

Tonight, my vibrator is my best friend.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, for convincing me to go to one of the most erotic nights of my life.

Suicide.

I\’m so happy, I could die.