When I was in my early 20s I had this idea that if you brought a woman to the brink of orgasm, then stopped all stimulation, and showed her a quick, visual, stunning magic trick, that would push her over the edge. My theory was the mental stimulation would take over for the physical stimulation, bringing the woman to orgasm.
This, as it turned out, was a terrible miscalculation on my part. Apparently women on the brink of orgasm are even less interested in seeing magic tricks than your average unaroused woman.
This was during my first year living in New York City and I was seeing a girl at the time who was spending her summer in the city training for some national soccer thing. I don't remember what it was. It wasn't the US National team, but it wasn't far below it either. It was for girls who were still in college at the time, which she was. This soccer thing may seem like an insignificant detail, but it plays a role later when she literally kicked me off the bed. [Spoiler.]
We met when I went to one of her practices with my friend whose sister was also on the same team. I remember spotting her during the practice and she was clearly beautiful, strong, and athletic. Her ponytail was mesmerizing as it swung to an fro and I was determined to make my move after practice. (It's strange that I wouldn't buy a $12 shirt if I only got to see it from 40 feet away, but I could fall for a girl who was a moving target from that distance.)
After practice we went onto the field and I was talking with my friend and her sister. When this other girl came near I told her I liked her ponytail because it was the perfect weight and/or angle for maximum pendulum action. We talked a little bit and I told her we had a lot in common because I played soccer when I was 8. "I was kind of a big deal. I was the goalie. One time, during a goalie kick, I missed the ball completely. And then I did it again later in the game, which I think is probably some sort of record or something. But I'm not trying to brag about it or anything."
We started dating not long after that. And once things got serious between us I thought, "I should try that magic orgasm thing." You see, she struck me as a very playful person. For example, the team had a curfew so she wasn't allowed out of her hotel after a certain hour and they weren't allowed to have guys in their rooms either, so I would rent a room in the same hotel on nights when we wanted to see each other, but she didn't like me to tell her the room number. She would ask me to give it to her in the form of a code or riddle for her to figure out. So I would call her room and say something like, "You shouldn't come to this room, it's too gross," or "Hydrocyanic acid," and immediately hang up and see how long it took her to find my room (288 and 167, in these cases.)
So she seemed like the type of woman who might think it was interesting to see if mental stimulation could produce physical stimulation. And maybe she would have been if I had informed her what my intention was. Instead I just stopped what I was doing, kneeled on the bed between her legs and began to vanish a nickel. This, unfortunately, did not create a magic-induced orgasm. It did not even produce a smile and polite applause. In hindsight I would have even been happy with a reaction along these lines.
Instead, I think her reaction was (and I'm just piecing this together from contextual clues), "What the fuck is wrong with this idiot? What is happening? I'm naked and completely vulnerable to this person. I've opened up myself to him emotionally and physically and he stops to show me a fucking coin trick? This is clearly a sociopath." She then reared back with one of her legs -- one of her beautiful, strong, soccer-sculpted legs -- and drove her foot straight into my chest, sending me flying off the bed.
Time slowed. At some point after the impact of her foot, but before the impact of my head against the dresser, I remember thinking to myself, "The answer is 'no.' No, you cannot bring a woman to orgasm with a magic trick. I realize a test group of one is not conclusive, but I think I will put this hypothesis to rest. Instead I will rely on the more traditional methods which seem to fare bett--" And I was out. When I came to a few minutes later she was bent over me, crying and apologizing and putting a glass of water to my lips. I was completely dazed and as I began to comprehend where I was and what had happened I tried to explain why I had done it but I was unable to stop laughing, which thankfully made her laugh too. I wasn't upset at all, I knew it was an instinctual reaction of confusion more than a violent act on her part. Plus I grew up with a rowdy brother and friends. "Violent" physical outbursts don't really affect me when I know there's no malice behind them.
It ended up being a weirdly romantic night, but whenever things got physical one of us would start laughing and break the mood. Eventually our hormones overcame our hysterics and things progressed further. As long as our eyes didn't meet we could hold it together. It was such a strange encounter in a way. And as she began to climax for the second time that evening, I briefly considered stopping and pretending to do the coin trick again, because I knew this time she would find it funny. I think she was thinking the same thing too because in that moment our eyes finally met for the first time in minutes and the sighs of pleasure became intermingled with the most beautiful, bubbly, melodic, breathless, laughter. It was as lovely a sound as I'd ever heard and I can still hear it clearly in my mind.
A couple weeks ago I got an email from my friend. The one whose sister had been on the soccer team with the girl I dated many years ago. She was writing me to tell me that girl had been killed in a car accident two months earlier. She would have told me sooner but my friend had just found out herself. Apparently a car crossed the median on a highway and hit her head-on. She was dead before the emergency vehicles got to the scene. In the backseat was her two-year old daughter. She was unharmed.
When our paths diverged at the end of that summer we didn't really keep in touch all that much, except for an occasional email, and eventually those ended as well. Then, out of the blue, two summers ago I got an email from her. It was the first time I had heard from her in 5 or 6 years.
It read, in part:
Not a week goes by where I don't think of you and the affection and attention you showed me that summer. We were very lucky. Most "summer flings" don't provide that many wonderful and memorable moments. To be honest, I don't think most marriages do either.
The funniest part about that night was that your hypothesis did end up being true for me in a way. Your trick didn't give me an orgasm but it did lead to perhaps the most "magical" one I've experienced. Should I not admit that? As you'd say, "Oh well." Our relationship was brief, but it was too much of a positive in my life for me to be coy about it in retrospect. And life is too short to not tell people when they're responsible for those rare magic moments.
She's right, folks. It's all fleeting. Get busy creating those moments. Or at the very least let the people know who are responsible for the ones in your life.