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One of those who took note was Cubby Pendleton, a forty-one-year old British journalist, who was in Monte Carlo to do a story about a doctor attending a medical conference.

He made an excuse to his magazine to fly to Salzburg. “I don’t have an appointment, but I do need to see a doctor.”

“Someone will see you in about fifteen minutes.”

“I’ve heard that there’s no one better than Dr. Egger, I’d like to see her.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Egger is off today. She’ll be in tomorrow.”

Cubby Pendleton waited until the next day. A nurse led him to an exam room. “You’ll need to take off your shirt and pants; here’s a gown. The doctor will be in shortly.” The nurse checked his blood pressure, etc.

There was nothing wrong with him, but it was the only way he could meet Sophie Egger. When she walked in, Cubby’s heart skipped a beat; she was beautiful, “how did that old guy in Monte Carlo, Franco get a woman like this?” He thought.

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Pendleton? All your vitals seem fine.” She was looking at his chart.

“I’ve been having some pains in my back,” he lied.

“Let me take a look.” She untied the gown around his neck and lowered it. She was stunned. There must have been seven or eight scars on his back; scars that had the same pattern and structure as war wounds.

Dr. Egger had not seen much of this type of injury in her practice or in her residency. Briefly, she’d worked in an emergency room, but even there, these types of injuries were rare.

“Do you want to tell me about these?”

Cubby Pendelton grew up near London. His father, nicknamed Bear because of his size, called his son Cub or Cubby and it stuck. The son was not built like his father, but more like his mother: tall and thin.

However, his father did pass on one trait to his son. On their honeymoon, Cubby’s mother, no virgin, was shocked. “My God Bear, I’ve never seen a bear, but what you’ve got looks more like what a horse might have. I’m going to enjoy it so much.”

It wasn’t until Cubby’s second term at university when he was seduced by Professor Adele Machnikova that he began to understand what he had. “My God, Cubby. I’ve been with a number of men, and I was married, but I’ve never seen, felt, or even heard of one this big. It hurts so good. Keep fucking me.”

The following morning, “Cubby, I promise, I won’t be satisfied until my mouth can take all of it.” She never did, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.

He stayed with Professor Machnikova for a year. “Cubby, your cock is marvelous, but a woman like me needs more than that. I need you to learn the joy of eating my pussy,” she said less than a month into their relationship.

He was an excellent student in the classroom and in Adele’s bed. Over the next few months, with lots and lots of practice, “oh Cubby, your tongue has become so good at pleasing my pussy. Keep eating me.”

From then on, he gratefully shared his generous manhood with as many young women who were willing, and there were dozens of them. Some , like the professor, claimed it hurt so good. Others, “I don’t think my pussy can take something this big, but I think my mouth can.”

He’d always dreamed of being a journalist and after graduation Cubby was hired by an international newsmagazine. Over the next fifteen years, he traveled the world on assignment. He also shared with many of the women of the world the trait his father passed on to him.

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