Family Vacation with Vazgen Part 1

My name is Evgeny, my wife is Sofia. I'm 36, my wife is a year younger. Sofia is a blonde, her hair is usually in a bun or a ponytail, green eyes. A cute, innocent face, lightly sprinkled with freckles. We have two girls, close in age, 3 and 4 years old.

In the summer of 2022, we decided we needed a break from the kids, from work, and from all the grayness of everyday life. Over the past 5 years, my wife had given birth to two children and was constantly with them until they became a little more independent. Of course, all this domestic fatigue was reflected in our personal life.

I work at a large and significant enterprise for our city, as a deputy department head. I get very tired,

often having to work from home late after work. The salary is enough to pay the mortgage, the car loan, and a modest life without luxuries, just like everyone else.

My wife and I met at a gathering of mutual friends, started dating, then pregnancy and marriage. We were both of a mature age, so we didn't think too much, quickly got married, bought an apartment with a mortgage, and started waiting for our first child. Naturally, after the baby was born, we needed a car, which we also successfully took out a loan for.

And so the summer of 2022 arrived, we were drained by the grayness of everyday life, living identical days, and realized we needed to try to escape somewhere for a vacation. I was supposed to have a vacation in July, we counted all our tiny savings, added the vacation pay, and realized we could manage a vacation in Sochi if we went in our own car and rented a house from locals.

And so that day came, the girls are at grandma's, my wife and I set off on our first-ever trip. It was very exciting, we had never experienced anything like it. Sofia constantly photographed the scenery and shared with her friends. After 5 hours on the road, we decided to stop to rest and have a snack at a cafe. Sofia was wearing a T-shirt and short shorts. I, accustomed to seeing her mainly in stretched-out home T-shirts and worn-out pajama pants, had stopped seeing her sexuality in her.

My wife, after giving birth to two daughters, had gained a little weight, which worried her greatly. She decided to get herself in order—started exercising at home, went on a diet, and looked simply wonderful, like on the first day we met. There were many trucks near the cafe, I understood it was a cafe-hotel just for long-haul truck drivers. While we were drinking coffee, I kept catching the glances of these drivers, starved for female affection. But there was nothing to worry about, we had just stopped briefly. After using the restroom, we hit the road again.

We had reserved a small house in advance via the internet. The owner, Ekaterina, as the hostess introduced herself in correspondence. In the photo—an ordinary village house: a separate kitchen, a hallway, and a large hall. There were no separate rooms, but we didn't really need that. In the hall in the photo, there was a large sofa that could be pulled out to make a double bed. In the hall, there were also two armchairs and a bed in the corner, covered by a curtain. I remembered how in childhood at my grandmother's in the village I would hide behind curtains—in village houses, it somehow wasn't customary to separate rooms with partitions, they managed by attaching curtain rods to the ceiling and hanging curtains on them.

Time on the road passed quickly, we spent the night in a hotel in a city along the way. Yes, it wasn't cheap, but stopping at trucker hotels was a bit scary. To my shame, I'm not a confrontational person, a good-natured man, one of those who always looks for a way to solve everything peacefully. I've never been in a fight in my life, and when such an opportunity once presented itself—I had a panic attack and just stood silently, unable to move.

Back then, Sofia and I were buying a stroller, and at the exit of the store, we ran into my former classmate. He was quite drunk and, seeing me, apparently forgot we had grown up—put me in a headlock, like usual in school, even my pregnant wife didn't faze him. While he was holding my neck, I heard my wife scream, but didn't understand what happened. Only at home did she tell me he started touching her there and saying how lucky I, a loser, was with a hot chick. When he let me go, I jumped up and wanted to hit him, but couldn't. At that moment, my heart started beating very hard, and in a panic, I didn't know what to do—thought about calling an ambulance or running home. I was deeply ashamed in front of my wife then. That evening we discussed it and decided to just forget it all.

Here we are in the beautiful city of Sochi. The navigator shows we have 500 meters left and need to turn onto the street with our house. Stopping near the house, we got out to stretch—everything was stiff from the drive. I again noticed my wife, who was arching with the grace of a cat and sticking out her beautiful butt.

My wife had arranged the house. The hostess asked us to call her when we arrived—she would show everything and hand over the keys. Sofia hadn't spoken to her on the phone before, only corresponded. And there wasn't much need—we cared about the photos of the house that the hostess provided.

What seemed strange was her request to send a full-length photo of us. She explained it by saying she had once been deceived by gypsies who sent photos of other people's passports. Sofia quickly took a photo of me in just shorts—it was hot, and I was walking around the apartment bare-chested. We laughed for a long time at the photo: I looked like Koschei the Deathless, and at a moment when I was saying something. And my wife deliberately dressed up for the photo.

I started photographing her, after a few shots Sofia started to play around—lifting her already short skirt. Getting into the spirit, I continued shooting. It turned into a kind of role-play. Sofia liked the photos, she didn't even delete them, saying she would keep them as a memento. That same evening, she blushed deeply when she accidentally sent these photos to the hostess, Ekaterina. But she didn't react, just wrote a short "OK."

Before Sofia could pick up the phone to call the hostess, the gate swung open, and a man of about 45 with Caucasian features appeared before us.

"Hello, dear guests, my name is Vazgen. Katya has gone shopping, she asked me to show you everything."

To say I was surprised is an understatement. Let me try to describe him: a man of about 45, with graying, thick short hair, cunning brown eyes that looked good-natured and inviting. An unkempt short beard, a nose with a hump, tanned, athletic build—a Caucasian who spoke perfect Russian. His chest and stomach were covered in thick, curly hair, going down into his groin. He was wearing only shorts and flip-flops, which only emphasized his athletic physique. But there was something inviting, calming about him. Perhaps the lack of an accent and articulate speech.

With Vazgen's help, we quickly moved our things into the house, and Sofia started unpacking them into the wardrobe. I kept catching the glances of our new acquaintance at my wife, and it strangely excited me. There were photos of a girl in the house, very similar to Sofia—we thought it was Ekaterina, the owner of the house.

Outside, there was a gazebo, or, more correctly, a summer kitchen with a table and a grill, on which meat was already sizzling. Its aromatic smell intoxicated us and, I'm sure, everyone around. Vazgen was an excellent shashlik maker—how deftly he handled the grill! Seeing me watching him from the window, he waved and shouted: "Come on, dear guests, everything's ready!" We didn't need much persuasion after the long drive, and we hurried to taste this wonderful shashlik. It was getting dark outside—good that we managed to arrive before night. On the table, there was a lot of greens, shashlik laid out on plates, and several bottles with a liquid still unknown to us.

We had a little snack, and I asked about the hostess: "When will she arrive?"

"Soon, dear guests, let's start by having some homemade tincture," Vazgen replied.

The tincture was strong and quickly intoxicated us after the journey. We talked with Vazgen like old friends—he turned out to be an educated man, could discuss any topic, and when he looked into your eyes, it became so calm, as if he possessed some hypnotic gift.

Vazgen stood up to make a toast:

"I am very guilty before you, my dear guests. I deceived you and ask for forgiveness."

Sofia and I laughed:

"How could you have deceived us in these two hours? Stop joking!"

Vazgen lowered his eyes:

"There is no Katya. I write that in the ads because many are afraid to rent a house from a Caucasian named Vazgen. Forgive me. I was very worried about this deception, wanted to refuse you, but then thought I would make it worse, and you might fall into the hands of scammers. What can I do for you to forgive me?"

Due to the alcohol and the friendly atmosphere, we genuinely felt sorry for him. He became a real friend to us, and in our hearts, there was the joy of the first day of vacation in Sochi. Sofia and I, from both sides, began to reassure Vazgen, convincing him that nothing terrible had happened and he probably had a good reason.

Vazgen became even sadder and began to tell how he lived in this house with his wife. He got married around our age, but after two years, his wife passed away from an illness. For 10 years now, he has been a widower, missing her and not communicating with anyone for a long time. A psychologist advised him to let go of the past, start a new life—rent out the house for the summer and go away to unwind. He actively exercises, but his heart is occupied only by his wife. He couldn't leave the house to just anyone, so he decided not to go anywhere for now.

Sofia asked about the girl in the photos. Vazgen confirmed it was his wife and added that Sofia was remarkably similar to her.

The second bottle of tincture was coming to an end, and we all continued to comfort Vazgen, trying to show we were not at all disappointed by the situation.

Cheering up a bit, Vazgen stood up with a new toast to new friends:

"I am deeply guilty before you. You turned out to be good people and forgave me, but that's not all I wanted to say. If after this you want your money back—I will return everything and help you find a new house tomorrow. I have nowhere to live—this house is the only thing I have. Over there, I have a bed in the corner behind the curtains. Let me be the first to go to sleep—I sleep like a log, don't snore, and won't disturb your privacy. And starting tomorrow, I'll try to arrange to stay with an acquaintance."

Our tipsy state, the friendly atmosphere, and pity for his situation made us immediately respond that there was nothing wrong with it—we didn't come for that, but to see beautiful places and relax.

Vazgen hugged us and went into the house, promising to clear the table in the morning, and now to go to sleep quickly so as not to disturb us.

Sofia and I exchanged glances and laughed. We sat for about another hour, enjoying the evening and finishing the tincture. Looking at the clock, I realized—it was time to sleep, otherwise we'd sleep until noon tomorrow.

Quietly, on tiptoe, we made our way into the hall, where Sofia had prepared the bed in advance. Snoring was coming from behind the curtain—Vazgen was already asleep. As quietly as possible, we reached the sofa, undressed, and lay down. The window wasn't curtained, and the light from a streetlamp fell directly on us. I looked at Sofia—wild excitement was in her eyes. A crazy thought flashed through my drunken head, which I immediately voiced:

"Maybe we can fool around a little?"

"What are you saying! What if Vazgen wakes up!"

"He won't wake up. When will we ever have such a chance again? Besides, he hinted twice himself. If he does wake up—it's his own fault."

"Well, I don't know..."

The whole atmosphere was wildly exciting. In one room, where we would have sex, a Caucasian man is with us—it was just blowing my mind from overexcitement. I started caressing Sofia, when my hand went lower, I realized she was ready. I had never seen her so aroused. She was just dripping. I helped her carefully take off her panties. Her hand was stroking my cock, which was already ready. All this was happening under a light blanket. Sofia started slowly sliding down and positioning herself between my legs. She rarely gave blowjobs, considering it depraved, sometimes when drinking alcohol she became loose and could fool around, in those moments I was simply in seventh heaven.

She sucked like a total slut, taking my not-so-big cock (13cm long and 3.5 cm thick, a pretty average cock) all the way down her throat.

And now I was anticipating this magnificent blowjob. Positioning herself between my legs, she started slowly kissing the head, slowly immersing it in her warm, wet mouth. It was visible that she was uncomfortable in that position. She tried to rise up and get on all fours, but the light blanket slipped off—exposing my wife to the streetlamp. Sofia hesitated, turned to look at the corner of the room where Vazgen was sleeping behind the curtains, in her eyes I saw an animalistic desire. But she didn't care anymore, she couldn't be stopped, she was actively taking my cock into her mouth. I, closing my eyes, was enjoying it and involuntarily glanced towards the curtains, it seemed to me the curtain twitched a little. In the dark, you can imagine anything, of course, deep down I imagined Vazgen watching us and jerking his cock.

Realizing I would cum soon like this, I suggested Sofia turn around and helped her get on all fours. So that from the side of the bed, everything would be very visible. Sofia, understanding and accepting this game, started to moan somewhat artificially and unnaturally, and move to meet me. Of course, giving birth to two children had taken its toll, when I entered her I didn't feel anything. So this artificial moaning wasn't entirely understandable, I understood it wasn't for me. It was as if she wanted to show someone else how hot she was in bed. Unfortunately, I couldn't last long and literally came right away. The state of emptied balls, alcohol intoxication, fatigue from the road just switched me off. I woke up from some movement, I was lying on my left side and Sofia was lying in front of me, I don't know how much time had passed since I passed out, I think about 40 minutes. Sofia, after Evgeny came and lay down to rest, realized that, as usual, only her husband would get pleasure from sex. She had long stopped feeling his small cock inside her, but how to fix this problem she didn't even imagine, and it wasn't the time for that. Waiting until her husband started snoring, she, with a habitual movement, directed her hand to her crotch. She imagined that Vazgen behind the curtain was watching her and jerking his cock. She threw off the blanket, spread her legs, and started touching herself while fixing her gaze on the curtains in the corner of the room. This went on for a minute, and she felt an orgasm approaching, such a bright orgasm had never happened to her before. It was as if a firework exploded in her head and spread warmth throughout her body.

I, watching this, got instantly aroused. And when I realized she was looking at the corner and possibly imagining the Caucasian host, I started to cum without even touching my cock. Sleep didn't come, and Sofia was already snoring lightly, I covered her carefully and myself, pondering what had happened, drifted off to sleep.

Good morning. Consciousness switched on from the bright light in my eyes. My brain started loading the latest events. "Wow, yesterday's tincture was good," I thought. My head doesn't hurt, I feel rested. But then—"stop"—nighttime memories started surfacing.

"Damn, we were awesome last night! Never had anything like that. If it weren't for the need to pee, I'd cum again."

Opened my