This reply contains spoilers.
So if you haven’t read Oubliette yet, you should do so before proceeding.
Well, the favourite fantasy isn’t licking gooey chocolate sauce from a lady’s bottom hole. Deliciously erotic though that is.
Nor is it having sex with someone you can’t see and who might be a complete stranger.
Nor is it being tied up, and then being released from your restraints to switch and take control.
It’s much more subtle than that.
It is the fantasy of reconnecting with a lost lover.
I’ve always been fascinated by how things might have turned out, should events have unfolded slightly differently. The erotic equivalent of Borges’ Garden of Forking Paths.
This isn’t motivated by feelings of regret, but rather the knowledge that every road not taken is actually an explosion of erotic possibilities.
Just think of everyone you’ve encountered who might have been a lover, if only you’d the courage to say how you really felt, or they didn’t come across so clumsily, or you weren’t in that relationship that never lasted, or a thousand other reasons.
Then you realise your life is just a tiny bubble of experiences, surrounded by a vast number of parallel realities of what could have been.
Think about that for a moment.
Why shouldn’t each one of these missed possibilities become the fuel for your own sexual fantasies? After all, they were inspired by your own unique path through life, you already know the characters so well – perhaps even intimately.
That’s what makes tales of what might have been feel so vividly compelling, and wistfully real.
Oubliette is inspired by my own fantasies, by circumstances that never quite happened, but which still inspire and delight me enormously.
I often wonder where my lost lovers are right now. What adventures they’ve experienced. I wonder if they’ve stumbled across these stories, unaware they actually know the identity of the author.
But more than anything, I hope they’re happy and sexually satisfied, and that they’re tracing the very best route through the myriad forking paths of their own lives…