“I eat young men for breakfast,” I said.

It was meant to be a joke. Partly. If anything, it was figuratively. The literal was me licking, kissing and sucking that delicious piece of meat.

“Can you eat me?” Many of those naughty boys would ask.

“Sure,” I often laughed.

“I want you to eat me,” said a 21-year-old Japanese guy.

“I’ll bite every part of your body,” I said. “From the top to the bottom.” I snickered. It made them excited. To be consumed by a hot Asian MILF with overflowing breasts.

It was Mother Earth birthing and taking you in. The idea of being one with nature was something I could relate to. Talking metaphorically, at some point, we all want to be loved to death. Burrito-ed and feeling complete support and comfort. Hugged and squeezed, cradled in Mommy’s womb.

Was it a submissive behavior? Was sex just an animal act and a snap of euphoria? Rising high, floating in the seas of rainbow clouds or diving down, post nutting and pitty cummed.

In my YOLO journey, I found the correlation between our sexual needs and power play interesting. The psyche of being human vs. animal, and who we are. Talking about sex was way more fun than MBTI, colors and music.

Who are we? Who are we to judge what others like, feel, and need? So long as it isn’t against the law, consented and no killing others, who are we to judge?

Except what is Vore? Are we crossing the line?

“Yes. Please. Mommy. Eat all of me. Do you know Vore?” This 21-year-old asked. Yes, he was at the limit of my age range. He liked that I was more than double his age, and I drove him crazy — that cherry boy — shorter, slimmer, with the face of an angel. Put him in a maid costume and it’d make the guys and girls go wild.

Vore. What was that? That I had to Google, and my jaw dropped.

“Are you for real?” I asked. “You know that’s not possible, right?”

“I like thinking about it,” he said. “I like big breasts and pussy licking. I wish you would force me to stay under your desk.”

“So u can lick my pussy?” I asked. I was curious about what he liked about Vore. He wasn’t a Hannibal Lecter. This was a power play. I wondered about his life and what made him this way.

Once in a while in the world of online and dating apps, I’d chat with a guy with an extreme taste. Vore was more than just submissiveness.

“Yes. I want.” He made a hot, panting face.

“Hands reach up and grab my breasts while I write in my lingerie,” I said.

“What if I try to escape?” he asked.

“I won’t let you,” I said, knowing this was what he wanted. “I will never let you go.”

He smiled. “Can you hire me? I can stay under mommy’s desk, always.”

“Is that what you like?” I asked. “Can’t hire you. I have an assistant. A college student like you.”

“And he works for your pussy?” he asked.

“Nope,” I replied. “But you like that, don't you?”

He smiled happily.

“Do you think of desks all the time?” I grinned.

“Yes.”

“When you go to the library, do you check out the desks and think if you could go under it?” I asked.

“Ermmm…no,” he replied.

“Why not? If I liked desks so much and fantasize how I could hide under and sneak a hand in a mommy’s pussy, I’d do that.”

“You would?”

“Yes,” I laughed. Now, this is the level of perversion. He was submissive, fresh in the game. I would be obsessed with it if desks were my thing.

If desks are my thing, I would sneakily look at them and even edge closer to a hot guy sitting at a desk in a cafe. I’m not into girls, so I’d be imagining hiding under a desk and nuzzling a guy’s thigh. Hands stroking from his ankles up to his leg and then brushing back down again, his inner thigh, purposely skipping his growing hard staff.

I’d hear him gasp when I accidentally let my fingers trace his bulge and then stop, and then grab it when someone walks by or a phone call comes through.