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September 11, 2016 | by  | in Features |
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Searching for a hands-free orgasm just made me angry and horny

Orgasms that don’t require any physical touch have long been discussed in department store whispers. First comes salad, then comes yoga, then come orgasmic meditation workshops. Is there any truth to these fully clothed, hands-free orgasms, or are they just another fad popularised by people who have a bit more time and a bit more money than most?

Some of the supposed touch-free ways that cumming could come about include focused breathing, stretching pelvic floor muscles, or just pure willpower. Like a lot of trendy surface-value-valid ideas, there is somewhat of a scientific backing. Whether an orgasm is mentally or genitally stimulated, the same parts of the brain light up, according to the author of The Science of Orgasm. But while the participants in this research (who by the way, all had spinal cord injuries—furthering evidence of a totally new orgasmic pathway) were either naturally able or guided by experts to mentally orgasm, the real question is can your average layperson do the same? And how? I attempted to find out.

 

HYPNOSIS

This was the method I felt the most hopeful about. If I was going to scream my own name, it was going to be in an altered state of consciousness. I already knew I was susceptible to hypnosis. I recalled a hypnosis video for uncontrollable laughing that had me in tears while a less compliant friend looked at me strangely, and just the other day Derren Brown had stuck me to my seat through subliminal messaging (during which I prayed that I would be released before my out of reach laptop ran out of battery—#justlivingalonethings).

So I returned to the same YouTube channel that had hypnotised me to laugh and laughed again upon discovering that hypnosis for hands free orgasms made up three of their top five most watched videos. Collectively they had over nine million views—nine million instances of individuals all over the world hoping to hypnotise themselves to orgasm! How quaint!

I clicked on the most popular of the videos. The hypnosis began to work as I found myself hunched over in a deep sleep. Once under, the hypnotist began mentioning arousal, and I felt a small but definite fuzzy feeling in my crotch area. The hypnosis then intensified, and the hypnotist instructed that he would click his fingers, and with each click this feeling would increase. The first few clicks seemed to work and the fuzzy crotch feeling grew. But there was something that was nagging from the second he mentioned arousal. It was his voice. He was sounding increasingly creepy. The clicking stopped working and at the mention of the so very erotic phrase “feels so very amazing,” the fuzziness disappeared completely. As it turns out, I am shallow even when in a deep trance.

Having discovered this Achilles heel, I decided to try once more, and after a long search I finally found a ‘hot’ sounding hypnotist. This video specified to lie down on your back, and as a result this attempt didn’t work either, as I just fell asleep and woke up 13 hours later at noon the next day.

 

THINKING YOURSELF OFF

This seemed the most insanely impossible, seeing as it’s pretty much just breathing through your mouth and thinking about your genitals. Yet there are many proponents of this phenomenon, including Lady Gaga, and tantric workshops have proven popular in big cities overseas. Perhaps thankfully, I found little on current workshops in Wellington. These are also usually targeted at couples and not single people going through a dry spell who think it’d be funny to try. So again, Youtube would be my guide.

As it turns out, there are a whole lot of white women in loose pants seated in lush domestic settings on Youtube ready to help. These stereotypical Marie Claire sensual goddesses liltingly speak of achieving orgasm just through breathing to ‘activate your chakras’. “Energy orgasms,” “tantric sexual breathing,” “thinking off”—it all seemed like a lot of hoohah. I watched a few videos of people supposedly experiencing one of these orgasms to see what I could expect—the comments beneath said it all: “That’s demon possession not orgasm” and “I feel like I just watched an art school reinterpretation of The Exorcist.”

Orgasm or exorcism, I was keen for either. It was time to try these video exercises for myself. “Orgasmic Meditation—Step by Step Instructions” and “How to Come By Just Thinking About It” had an accessible DIY friendliness and casualness to them. And unlike a conventional penis-assisted orgasm, I was spoilt for choice!

I followed a few different videos, though all had a common methodology: a deep breath in through your open mouth (one instructor related a relaxed open jaw to relaxed open genitals), taking this breath down towards your genital area, and then breathing “out” through your vagina or penis (which seems like a questionable party trick at best). Variable instructions included “squeezing your uterus” (with the additional step: “men, pretend you have a uterus”) and then “letting it flow down the front” (still not sure what “it” refers to), and visualising orbs of lights, gems, and ocean waves (surprisingly no mention of Tom Hardy).

My first attempt was straightforward seated huffing and puffing, which got me nowhere at all. Yet the more I tried and the more I failed the more I was determined to orgasm. What did these women have that I didn’t? My pants were just as loose as theirs and I had just as much, if not more, free time as them. So why couldn’t I also make myself thrash about as if possessed by an invisible peen?

My second attempt was using a method called “ocean breathing,” which involved straddling a cushion and gyrating much in the same way ocean waves gyrate. This video even suggested doing it in front of a mirror to turn yourself on even more. I can tell you now that there was absolutely nothing arousing about the reflection of myself angrily grinding a pillow and gulping like a fish out of water. Definitely no orgasm and not even a kick from dry humping an inanimate object. What a glamourous point in my life as a bachelorette.

In a last ditch effort I lay down instead of sitting. I didn’t follow a video directly but relied on the collective newfound knowledge the self-orgasming Youtube community had given me. I breathed in and out heavily, hoping it was my vagina that was doing it. Probably out of desperation, I found my breathing starting to sound quite sexual. I didn’t think anything of it and kept going until I actually began to feel something down in my yoni (I was told by a lovely white Australian woman in a bindi that ‘yoni’ is Sanskrit for vagina). I kept breathing intensely until I realised why this felt familiar—I was faking my own orgasm. I was so eager to not disappoint myself that I was trying to fake it till I could make it. Weirdly it was sort of working until I broke the spell by realising I was just pretending. Still, I enjoyed staying the night with myself anyway and even had breakfast made for me by me the next morning, so I guess it wasn’t the worst faked orgasm ever.

 

THE YOGASM

Yogasms are what they sound like—orgasms that appear during yoga practice, and quite often out of the blue in regular, non-tantric, non-sexually focused, plain vanilla yoga. The poses that I would do were listed in a credible sounding article called “Yogasms Are Real and This is How You Have One”. I began by unrolling the $10 warehouse yoga mat that I bought more as a prop for guests to stumble upon and think of me as fit and flexible. It listed several poses—pigeon, passive hip opening, the happy baby, and the squat. Together they sounded like an odd street gang.

First, the passive hip opening—lying on your back, right leg on left leg’s knee, holding right ankle in the air. I felt a nice stretch but not winky-face-nice. Next I moved on to the happy baby. Still on my back, this pose was simply holding both feet in the air, pulling your knees towards your armpits, and exhaling and inhaling as you entered and exited the pose. It felt like an unflattering sex position and did nothing except highlight my lack of sex life and lack of orgasm. The penultimate position, the pigeon pose, was one I was familiar with from that one time I went to yoga, and remembered it being what yogis call a “very deep stretch.” It once again was, but only a platonic very deep stretch. I looked at the final position, a low squat, did it for about three seconds, knew it was going nowhere, and stopped.

 

THE FEMALE WET DREAM

Female wet dreams are just as real and as variably experienced as male wet dreams; though, since there is little secreted evidence, many women sleep through nocturnal orgasms without even knowing they’ve had one. So for most, waking to post-coital pleasure and faint imagery of a dream lover remains an occasional treat. Yet of all the methods listed, this is the only one I’d previously experienced and can stand by as actually working. Sadly they’re pretty much impossible to summon on demand—no-one would ever go outside if they knew they could nap and have REM sex with whichever Jonas Brother they wanted. Still, it didn’t stop me from trying.

Before bed each night I actively went about imprinting erotic imagery into my thoughts. Since I was really feeling the Olympic spirit, this involved stalking athletes’ Instagrams before drifting off to sleep, imagining the weight of a male Olympic swimmer’s body lying on top of mine. I even upped my cheese intake a few nights.

But alas, it was a week of G-rated dreams, the most notable thing being a cameo by Courteney Cox. She was lovely. At the end of the week I was not surprised it didn’t work at all. In a way I’m glad it didn’t. Some things have always been out of human control—forces of nature, dreams, fate. I didn’t want to interfere too much for fear I anger that which we do not know—I might never be gifted my dream sex dream of Atonement era James McAvoy…

***

Like a child wanting Santa Claus to be real, I desperately wanted a hands-free orgasm to be real. And perhaps they are, but not for me. Just like love! Haha…. And also like love, the search for a hands-free orgasm had just made me angry and horny. The extra attention I had given to my ‘yoni’ and brief flutters it had felt just gave me female blue balls, while my failure to achieve a mental orgasm had left me feeling left out. The community I’d discovered of self-proclaimed, self-orgasming women, whether they were all faking it or not, became yet another group I couldn’t be part of. One had said that mastering this skill would let you “ride the waves of pleasure instead of chasing an orgasm,” yet all these experiments were me explicitly chasing an orgasm in the most pathetic way possible. So until I find myself able to magically breathe out of my vagina, I will stick to the tried and true.  

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