How to not-quite-share your sexual fantasies

OPENING up about your sexual fantasies to your lover is the key to great sex, in theory, but nobody’s ever done it because what if your lover freaks the fuck out? 

Yes, they’re the one person who could bring your deepest, most wayward desires to life. But also the stuff you get off to is pretty depraved. Here’s how to nearly-but-not-really let them in:

Overthink it

Ideally you’d be in Morocco, smoking hash in a hotel overlooking the rolling desert, where any confession would be untroubling. Not fucking likely though, is it? So should mention you’d like to get spunked on while unpacking the dishwasher? Fill the bedroom with candles and recline naked on a bed of rose petals before announcing you want to be anally stimulated? Pop it all down formally in a midday email? You’re paralysed into inaction before you’ve said a word.

Hate yourself for your deviancy

A healthy, British level of self-loathing is an asset for veering off subject. Try to blurt out ‘I want to be spanked!’ and subconsciously correct it to ‘Thanked! For recording Grand Designs!’ Fantasies are a normal and healthy part of being a sexually-realised adult, except yours. Yours are fucked up. Admit them and your wife will never shag you missionary with the lights out ever again.

Fear their reaction

You make yourself vulnerable by confessing your fantasies. Your husband pulls that face he does when he hears your mother’s up for five days this Christmas. That’s expected, but have you considered you might trigger an equally unwelcome bout of reciprocal honesty? Like nuclear warfare, it escalates quickly: he dresses up as a fireman for you and suddenly all his kinks are fair game, no matter how hard to clean up after.

Believe you’re unique

Surely you’re the only woman in the world to have fantasies that are boringly close to Fifty Shades of Grey, which is why you slam your laptop shut when your boyfriend arrives in the middle of an agonisingly tame bondage video. Keep reminding yourself these fantasies are yours and yours alone, despite there being ten million hours on Pornhub alone dedicated to it. Never tell a soul, least of all the person you love.

Don’t admit them even to yourself

It’s best not to share your true desires even with yourself. Close your own mind, lie that sex on a chair satisfies your wild side and keep your filthy thoughts to yourself and your internet service provider. You can die curious, disappointed and humiliation-free. What more could any sexually-stifled human being wish for? When it comes to confessing your sexual peccadillos, denial is the answer.

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Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

The Chancellor will make a special exception and help you out with the cost-of-living crisis, so long as you get ‘Crazy for Kwasi’ tattooed on your right arse cheek.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

You didn’t mind all that fuss for the Queen. You’re just not prepared to go through it all again when Rupert Murdoch dies.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

Sometimes you weep at how much nicer Britain would be with red squirrels.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

A baby kangaroo is called a Joey. A sarcastic baby kangaroo is called a Chandler.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

God, remember when J.Lo was considered to have a big arse? Before the Arse Wars really started?

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

Go to one of those restaurants with live lobsters and select around fifteen of them. Now order whatever you want and don’t pay. What the fuck are they going to do, fight you and your lobster legion?

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

Sometimes things just fall off the earth, tumble into space and are never seen again. So yeah, I guess that’s what happened with your bike. 

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Michael Sheen’s inspiring speech to the Welsh football team went viral, but your rant about Bristol Rovers that you filmed while sitting on the toilet hasn’t. It really is a lottery.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

It’s time you started thinking about the bigger picture. Specifically the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

People say rattlesnakes are sneaky but they’re literally the least sneaky snake going. Their whole thing is warning you. It’s in the name.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

To say someone’s as ‘thick as two short planks’ is in itself thick, because the length of a plank is no guide as to its depth, you ignorant bastard.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

You’re told by a lover that you’re hung like a donkey! But for you, a blue whale, this is a hurtful insult.