tagRomanceWhisper Of The Wind

Whisper Of The Wind


A lot had happened in the last week to Master Sergeant Charles E. Cobb, USMC, ret. On 30 June 2002, he had retired from the Corps. He had sold his property near Camp Pendleton. Pulling a trailer with all his belongings, he had made it to Lewiston, Idaho in time to sell his car, bid for, and get, one of the school buses the school system disposed of annually. Alone, since his wife, Shirley had left him for that fuzzy cheeked Navy Commander, he planned on living in his bus for a couple of years, mostly in the Idaho and Montana regions.

Just before he got to Orofino, Idaho on route 12, a sheriff flagged him down, thinking that he was a local school bus driver.

"Yes Sir. What can I do for you, Sir?"

"Emergency. The Bald Mountain forest fire is heading this way. Take your bus over to building C at the state mental hospital. They have some patients who have to be moved."

Three school buses full of patients passed him leaving the hospital, as he drove up. The sky was full of smoke and blowing cinders. Fire crews were hosing the buildings. As soon as he stopped, a nurse brought five women patients to his bus. A maintenance man brought a duffel bag for each woman containing her possessions. As he tossed those in the rear, the nurse returned with the paperwork about each patient. Handing the folders to Cobb, she instructed, "Get them out of her."

What to fuck, Charlie thought to himself as he pulled out onto route 12. Damn nurse must have thought that I knew where the other buses were taking all these people. I don't even have a two-way radio to ask anyone.

Traveling east on route 12, he came to the town of Kamiah. The school and the sheriff office were closed. It dawned on Charlie that he was stuck with his passengers. Well, a Marine Master Sergeant, if anything, is resourceful, not timid in finding a solution for any problem. He stopped the bus in a parking lot. Turning, he took a look at just whom he had aboard his bus. Beauties they weren't. Neither were they dogs. The women groggily stared at him with a look on their faces that betrayed the fact that each was heavily drugged to make her passive.

Ages? Between twenty-five and forty, Charlie guessed. Chuckling, Charlie murmured under his breath, ten tits, five pussies. It was at that moment that Charlie decided to take the ladies with him into Montana for an extended camping stay on Federal Forest lands that he had roamed as a boy. In Missoula, Montana, he stopped at a sporting goods store. Sleeping bags, pads, stoves, dishes, pots, pans, tarps, camp chairs, and porta-potties were all bought.

At an Albertson's grocery store, he added six hundred, sixty-seven dollars worth of staples. His guests were all paraded into a Penny's to be outfitted with the necessary garb for life in the wild. He drove to a dump. Took out most of the bus seats. They were off!

Just short of the Continental Divide, off route 200, Charlie proceeded north on the Roger's Pass road. He stopped in a meadow with a scenic view that extended for miles. A swift running brook cut through the meadow. "We are here, ladies."

It was 2:45 PM. The ladies had been without any medicine for eighteen hours. One, by the name of Sue Ann Brigham, who Charlie would later learn, when reading her file, that she had tried to knife her husband on two occasions when she discovered that he had spent all their rent money, spoke up to ask, "Just who to hell are you? And, where in hell are we?"

"I am Charles Edward Cobb. I am a retired Marine. You are in Montana. If you don't like it here, there is the road, Sweetheart. You might want a bite to eat before you go."

"I'll stay awhile. Did you mean it when you said that you would let me just walk away from here, a free person?"

"Sweetheart, you can bet your fanny on anything that Charlie Cobb tells you."

The other four women took in every word of the exchange. This man, whoever he was, was not their keeper. There were no waxed floors. No white walls, with stern nurses giving orders. No bars. There was the soft whisper of the wind, smell of the pines, gurgling of the brook.

Another women, Sandra Wilson, asked, "Can I walk around the clearing?"

"Hell, all of you get out of the bus. Explore the area. I'll get the stoves working. Get us some rations. Tonight, it will be oatmeal, with raisins, toast with marmalade, coffee, and Tang."

The oldest woman laughed. "Not quite the Outback, but it sure sounds good."

Each went off by herself, with her thoughts about this change in her life, this sudden freedom. What was one to think? Flowers were picked and smelled, as were pinecones. Shoes were removed so that one could wade in the cold mountain stream. Above all else, there was the whisper of the mountain wind.

"Chow down for the crew. Hubba-hubba, it's hot on the plate. Now."

After Charlie had washed the dishes in the stream, he set up a netted tent where they could read after dark without being bitten by the no-seeums flies.

He read their files. Sandra Wilson had visions of fantasy. She was thirty-seven. Husband had her committed, then divorced her.

Janis Powell, age thirty-nine. Kleptomaniac. Divorced.

Betsy Morse, age twenty-nine. Given to bouts of depression. Had wandered away from home in the winter wearing only her bedclothes. Never married.

Mary Lou Johnson, age 46. Has flashbacks from use of LSD. Will expose herself in public. Divorced. Known to be promiscuous.

Charlie looked up. Mary Lou was staring at him, with a come-hither smile on her lips. Charlie flushed for a second. It was the first time in his life that he knew that a woman was after him, before he was after her.

Their behavior was nothing new to Master Sergeant Charles Edward Cobb. He had just finished an eight-year tour as a Marine drill instructor. They can't be any worse then the snot-nosed, fat, lazy, mamma-boy recruits that he had transformed into United States Marines. You have to understand that Master Sergeant Cobb was not in the Marines. He was the Marines, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

At 0600 hours the next day, the ladies were rudely awaken by one Charles Cobb, who stood before them, dressed, cleanly-shaven, beating a stick on a trash can lid, screaming, "Alright ladies, take your hands off your pussies, grab your socks, five minutes to chow. Hit it Ladies, on your feet."

They were served. You guessed it. Oatmeal, with raisins, toast, with marmalade, coffee, and Tang.

Each had a down vest on, while eating. It is cold in the morning, high up in the mountains. Charlie spoke to them. It was the first of many gems of wisdom that he would impart to them. "Ladies, the enemy of fast, smart, and good-appearing is fat. I do not like fat. In fact, I hate fat. Each of you are fat. You will lose your fat. You will leave your fat behind you by hiking away from it. You will find that the more that you sweat, the more fat that you will leave behind you. This morning, right now, we will start to make you slimmer, faster, better looking. Fall out for a two mile hike up the trail to the top of the mountain in five minutes."

"I can't do that." Mary Lou, wailed.

"Mary Lou, brush your teeth, potty, get your walking shoes on, and be back here in five, or I'll come get you." As Charlie said that, he swished a sapling the size of a riding crop back and forth.

One hour and twenty minutes later, "Cobb's Warriors," as they came to call themselves, arrived at the top of the mountain. Each woman had done more, much more, then she ever imagined that she was capable of doing that morning.

They had griped. They had complained. Sue Ann had screamed at him, "You're an asshole, Cobb."

"That, and a cock, Sweetheart," he had replied.

Mary Lou had giggled at that. That got everyone laughing, even Sue Ann.

Once at the summit, they sat on the bald-cliff, with a view extending fifty miles. Each women sat holding her legs, deep in her thoughts, as Charlie passed out granola bars, peanut butter sandwiches, and water bottles that he had carried in his fifty-pound backpack. Each was immensely proud that she had made it to the top. Little did they know that Charlie would have carried anyone who could not make it. Marines do not leave people behind. Not now, not ever.

A thought came to Janis Powell. She turned to study this Charles Cobb. Here are five women in the wilderness of Montana with just one man. Yet not one of them was the least bit afraid of him, afraid for themselves, or afraid for the other women. The reason, she concluded, was they had no doubt whatsoever that there was anything that Charlie Cobb could not handle, be it man, animal, or weather. She had an urge to steal the belongings of the other women. But, in her heart, she knew that this Charles Cobb would stop her, correct her. He would be on her case. He was a force unlike any that she had ever encountered before. Suddenly, it was upon her. She had a desire to have sex with him. She wanted him between her legs. She wanted him to take her. Later…

The hike down to the clearing was, in Charlie's words, "A walk in the park."

Without being asked, the women divided up the duties for the preparation of supper. Using a bon-fire, Charlie heated up ten gallons of water. He set up a shower, by hanging a sprinkler from a tree. Each woman, in turn, stood naked before all the rest, as she washed herself, while Charlie fed warm water down on her. The women gathered around when it was Charlie's turn. Mary Lou poured the water.

As Charlie washed his cock with soap, Sandra said, just loud enough for them all to hear, "Charlie, make it hard for us."

In seconds, it was erect. Janis, the thief, reached to touch it. Mary Lou exclaimed, "I'm first, I'm first, I'm first."

Betsy, the girl with the depression problem, had a sad look on her face. Charlie saw it. Still wet, he went over to her. He whispered in her ear, "You can have me first, if you want?"

The other four women knew instantly what he had done, and why. Each, in her own way, fell in love with Charles Edward Cobb at that moment.

A summer storm, complete with rumbling-thunder, continuous-lightning, worked its way up the valley towards the bus, just after dark. It was a hot, muggy, summer night. All were naked. The wind picked up, causing the bus to rock, as the heavy rain droplets beat a steady pitter-patter, pitter-patter, against the top and sides of the bus.

He sensed her nearness. Her hand touched his. Slowly, gently she lie next to him, resting her body on his side. She placed her head on his chest. In the light of the lightning flash, he knew that it was Betsy.

Mary Lou saw her slide next to him. She slid her finger into her own pussy.

Charlie rolled over to be able to kiss Betsy, while fondling her breasts. He did not know it. And, she never told him, but Betsy was a virgin. He placed her hand on his cock. He misunderstood her feeling it all over as excitement, of her wanting it in her. For her part, she was wondering how big it was? Would it fit in her?

He lowered himself to eat her pussy. Sue Ann, and Sandra sat up to watch. Each was playing with her tits, while finger fucking herself. Janis slid closer. Mary Lou dipped a large carrot that she had sculptured, in some corn oil.

Betsy was withering, moaning, and undulating her ass. Charlie slid forward. He held her legs by placing his arms behind her knees, so that her ass was in the air. His cock found her slit. With a few pumps of his ass, the bulb of his cock caught at her hole. As his weight shifted upon his cock, it pushes slowly into her pussy. Charlie knew that he had a good one. She was nice and tight. Her fingers were digging into his back from her tension. He snapped his ass forward, while whispering, "yahoo."

It had been four months since Charlie had last had sex. He humped, humped, humped. He humped some more. Mary Lou thrust the carrot up Betsy's ass. Sue Ann and Sandra got on each side of Betsy. Each grabbed a breast with both hands to yank and pull it.

The wind was now howling. Zzzz, kaboom. Zzzz, kaboom. The lightning struck close by again and again. Torrents of rain pounded the bus. Betsy cum. The moment that she did, Charlie rolled off her. He rolled Sue Ann onto her back. His cock was rammed up her swollen wet pussy. She cum with his third push. He rolled off her. He shoved Mary Lou onto her back. His cock slashed into her hungry hole. He drove that pole of his deeply into her snatch. She screamed out, "Your fucker, you fucker, you fucker," as her cunt grabbed his cock as she cum. Thunder boomed overhead.

Sandra, a tiny woman, he covered like a blanket. Her hand guided his cock into her. She was the most active fuck. Her little ass thrust up at his descending cock, hard. She cum, while moaning,"Charlie."

A lightning flash revealed Janis, with her hand in Sue Ann's bag. The others saw it too. "Hold her on her back for me," Charlie commanded.

"Spread her very wide for me." Charlie took her with long deep thrusts. He cum. Janis tosed her head from side to side as her body responded. She cum. He got hard again. Cum. He took her again. Cum. Hard again. He took her again.

Janis now knew what was in store for her if she stole anything.

Back in Orofino, Idaho they were missing five patients. No one had the slightest idea as to what had happened to them, since the sheriff was from another jurisdiction, and the nurse had moved. Died in the fire? Who knows?

We do. Charlie and his women now eagerly await darkness so that they can start the Evening Orgy. Any excuse is a reason to fuck.

September first is the start of Elk season in Montana. A guide, scouting for Elk, rode his horse into the clearing. Charlie and he talked for over an hour. Charlie had crossed the tracks of hundreds of Elk in the area. He told the guide what he had seen, and where. Mary Lou walked over to them. "You should ask the nice man to stay the night, Charlie?"

"Welcome to stay. Have some grub. Some entertainment?"

"Sure, like to."

Mary Lou went back to the bus to tell the other girls that there was to be a new cock in camp that night. While the girls fixed chow, Charlie swore the guide, Bob Dodds, to secrecy. Just after dark, Charlie brought Bob to the entrance of the bus. They could see that he was naked as he walked up the steps. "Have at him girls."

With a string tied tightly around his cock, Bob was able to fuck each of the five women, until she cum. The next morning Bob asked Charlie if it was okay for him to use the clearing to erect tents for his hunters to use during the month of September. "Hell, I don't own the land, " was Charlie's response.

Each group of fifteen hunters would stay for five days. The first night, Bob told the hunters. "I can get you some fine entertainment, if you promise that what goes on here, stays here?"

Each nodded his head, as his face lit up with a shit-eating grin. Their thoughts ran from some sort of sexy dance, to a showing of tits. They had seen the women near the bus on the other side of the clearing. They were invited to the bus. It was heated. Once inside, the women all stood up. Each was wearing a coat. When the coats were removed, five women stood before them naked.

Mary Lou took Betsy's hand. She took her over to a young guy named Patrick Williams. She wanted Betsy to be fucked by a guy her own age. "Here play with this," she told Patrick.

Betsy shyly was looking at the floor. Patrick picked her up. He carried her to the corner. His cock was rigidly pointing up, extending to his belly button, as he dropped his pants. Betsy moaned as his mouth latched onto her pussy. She withered in ecstasy when his mouth sucked her clit. "Ooohhooo," came from her as his cock eased up her pussy. An hour later, both Bob and Charlie quietly creped among the withering bodies to find Betsy. Patrick was lying beside her, spent.

Charlie had told Bob that Betsy was the tightest fuck. Bob lowered his body onto her soft womanly body. She was still breathing hard from fucking Patrick. Her pussy was fully engorged. Her breasts enlarged a full cup. Nipples, sensitive, sticking out like erasers. Cum leaking from her. Bob opened her legs. There was no resistance. She knew he was there to fuck her. She wanted him to fuck her. She wanted to be fucked. She needed to be fucked. When his cock found her slit, she grabbed his ass to pull him towards her. Her hands rubbed his back, ass, back to his head. He felt his cock bottom in her. He fucked her fast and hard. Pumping, pounding, thrusting, as deep as he could push his cock. "Oh, Oh, Oh," he moaned as he cum.

When Bob rolled off, Charlie got on to give Betsy a long slow fuck. It was nice not to have to please five women.

Every spare moment that they were not hunting, the hunters would be in the bus chatting with the women, and fucking them. One by one, Charlie's girls came up to him. Mary Lou's conversation is an example.

"Charlie, take a walk with me, would you?"

"Sure, Mary Lou."

"Charlie, I owe you a lot. I owe you a real lot. One of the hunters, an older gentleman, by the name of Peter Jennings, from Pittsburgh, has asked me to marry him."

Charlie stopped. He turned towards her. Kissed her on the forehead. "I know who he is. Good man. Good for you, Mary Lou. He is getting a good woman."

"Charlie, we want you to be the best man?"

"I will be proud to be your best man."

Betsy was next. Patrick was the guy. So it went, until on 6 October, Charlie left that field up on the mountain, alone.

For the winter months, he moved to Kingman, Arizona. He set up a mailing address, so that his girls could keep in touch with him.

On 23 November 2002, there was a soft knocking on the bus door. He opened it to find one hundred, sixteen pounds of dynamite, topped by bright red hair, over a face full of freckles. It was his ex-wife, Shirley.

He eyed her. Her face did not reveal what her mood was, why she was here.


"Yes, thank you."

"How have you been?"

"Charlie, I made a terrible mistake. Money isn't everything. I'm an old Marine's wife at heart, not an officer's wife. I divorced him, Charlie. I'm here to ask you to take me back?"

"Stand up and turn around slowly for me."

As she did so, he continued, " The enemy of fast, smart, and good appearing is fat. I hate fat. I see that you are not fat. I like everything to be in perfect working order. One of the tests of a woman's condition is how well she fucks."

As he was saying this, Shirley dropped her blouse, bra, and belt to the floor.

"To fuck well, a woman has to train. It seems to me that only a Marine can properly train a marine wife to fuck."

Shirley shirt, panties, garter belt, stocking, and shoes were now in a pile at her feet. She lifted her arms above her head to display her breasts. He neatly trimmed; bright-red-bush nestled between her legs.

"How often would you be willing to fuck, if you had a chance to be with a real Marine?

"As a Marine wife, I would be ready to fuck twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week."

Shirley stepped up to the man she had been married to for twenty-three years. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Charlie closed his eyes, as he savored her touch, her smell. His hands softly pawed her ass. She was the love of his life. There never had been another woman, never would be.

Shirley whispered in his ear. "Has the nice Marine maintained his proficiency, or must poor Shirley train him all over again?" Her pussy was grinding against the bulge of his cock. Charlie picked her up. He carried her toward the bed at the rear of the bus. Shirley knew that she would again be Mrs. Charles Edward Cobb. She would experience the comfort, the confidence, that a woman knows when she has a man who is her best friend, conspirator, lover.

As he lowered her to the bed, he said, "Boy, do I have a story to tell you!"

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