There are few actual magical things in this world: Love of a puppy, a full moon on a still summer night, and the strangling of a baby. Well, I’ve found one more thing: the whistling vagina. While it’s not mine anymore, I had the pleasure of experiencing it for a time in my life and I know I can die a happy man now.
How this all started was simple enough and hardly worth mentioning, but I will. I had just finished a nine mile round trip hike around a local mountain range when I spotted a black haired angel. She was only around five foot four inches, but she had a hard body, tight ass, and a pair of tits which betrayed her small figure. Banging lips, too, which I knew could suck a pair of balls straight out of a hard dick. Turns out, I was right about that, but let’s not focus on this.
We caught eyes as I approached, so I stopped and began some idle chat with her. She told her two annoying friends to go ahead without her, and we made plans to meet up later. Now, I know what you’re thinking: “What about this magical whistling vagina?” I’m getting to that. Every story needs a good setup.
She must have called me fifteen times in two days to tell me how excited she was to meet up. Taking this as a cue, I decided to just invite her straight over to my place and have a date just like any other twenty three year old does. That is to say, put on Netflix, pretend to be interested in the movie on screen for five seconds, and then start making out for a few before banging each other until the sun comes up three days later. If you haven’t figured this is that kind of story yet, you’re dumber than even I figured you are.
The night in question comes around and she shows up in this tiny sun dress which barely covered her panties, which she actually wasn’t wearing, and was the description of “Holy shit, you fine!”. I popped some popcorn and we chatted as it finished up before flipping through Netflix to find something we were going to ignore. I don’t remember what it was, but sure enough, the make-out session started and she was aggressive in a good way.
Realizing this wasn’t going to be enough nor was the couch a good place to start the screwing, we both jumped up and ran to the bed room. All clothes came off and we got into the full swing of it. After about four strokes I realized I heard something strange, so I stopped and looked around. When I didn’t hear it again, I continued, only to realize the sound came back. She asked what was wrong and I told her, “I hear something odd…like…like a whistle that keeps changing as I’m nailing you.” She blushed and told me it was her. Well, not her, but her magical whistling vagina. I didn’t believe her and started trying different variations, which, sure enough, changed the pitch and length of each whistle.
From that moment on I was hooked! I couldn’t get enough of that magical whistling vagina. With her help, I explored all kinds of different musical tastes from Fredrick Francois Chopin to ZZ Top. From Waltz to Dubstep. Sadly, happiness can never truly last forever and she left one day for new adventures. I will always remember, and be grateful, for the time with that magical whistling vagina!