#3041: Yerevan, Armenia
Original photo: @readaurore
When a street musician disrupts Nane’s peaceful morning ritual, she’s annoyed—until his absence reveals how much she grew to crave his presence. What begins as frustration blossoms into unexpected passion, culminating in a sensual and deeply satisfying encounter that neither of them could have predicted.
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Transcript
The weather in Yerevan was as warm as always, with nights growing hotter. Most apartments lacked air conditioning, and Nane’s was no exception. She managed by staying in the shade, keeping her windows and balcony door open. Her favorite ritual was sitting behind a small coffee table on the balcony each morning to enjoy her breakfast. It recharged her, even on hard days.
Lately, though, that cherished ritual had lost its magic—and she knew exactly why.
It started a month ago. She had just placed her breakfast on a tray, ready to step outside and enjoy a few minutes of quiet. But the calm was shattered by the sudden sound of music below her balcony. A street musician had claimed the space beneath her window, playing guitar and singing an old '80s hit. Even though she liked the song, hearing it so early, so clearly—every word, every note—grated on her nerves. He wasn’t terrible, she had to admit. But clearly, he had no concept of appropriate timing.
In true Armenian fashion, she made her disapproval known. Leaning over the railing, she let him know that his performance was unwelcome. The man looked up at her with a smile and responded with flattery, which she dismissed with a roll of her eyes. Compliments from Armenian men were as common as pomegranates in the market. What she wanted was simple: for him to pack up and move elsewhere.
But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed, introduced himself as Edik, and offered to play another song. He assured her he wouldn’t stay long, but that wasn’t the response she’d hoped for. Still fuming, she sat at her table, internally debating whether her coffee would be better inside her body—or poured over his head. In the end, kindness won. She drank her coffee, grumbling the whole time, convinced this would be a one-time annoyance.
She was wrong.
The next morning, the music returned. Her instinct was to stay inside and shut the windows, but she quickly abandoned that idea. Why should she give up her own space for someone else? This was her home, and she wasn’t going to be chased off her balcony. She stepped outside and ignored him completely, turning her attention to the distant Mount Ararat framed by the clear morning sky.
His music remained the same—nostalgic hits from decades past. Nane assumed the lack of coin in his guitar case would eventually send him elsewhere.
But he stayed. For a full month, she endured his presence. Then slowly, she began to tolerate it. She hummed along under her breath, careful not to let him know. Something about the consistency of it—his voice, his songs—began to anchor her mornings.
Then, one day, the music stopped.
At first, she thought she had finally regained her peace. But after a few days of silence, she found herself missing it. She even tried to replace it with recordings of the same songs, but it wasn’t the same. What she missed wasn’t just the music—it was him. She’d spent so long trying to chase him away that she hadn’t realized how used to his presence she’d become.
A week passed. Then one morning, just as she was adjusting to his absence, she heard his voice again. She rushed to the balcony. There he was, singing like nothing had changed. They exchanged familiar glances, and when he mentioned he'd been traveling and performing in other cities, he hinted at wanting to catch up—over tea.
For the first time, Nane invited him in.
It felt strange to see Edik in her home, where once she’d only seen him from a distance. Up close, he was more attractive than she expected. That warm smile, the shine in his eyes—it was magnetic. A connection bloomed quickly between them, and the tension that had once been frustration now simmered with desire.
Without hesitation, she kissed him. It was deep and urgent, releasing the longing that had been building in his absence. Their hands roamed, pulling at clothes, fabric gathering and falling in their path toward the bedroom. Nane didn’t care about work. She only cared about this—about him.
Their clothes hit the floor in scattered abandon. Edik’s rough hands sent thrills down her spine as he undressed her, kissed her breasts, and squeezed her ass. She guided him, confident, dominant, relishing the way he watched her.
She pointed to the floor—her unspoken command. He obeyed, kneeling in front of her as she lifted her leg over his shoulder and spread herself for him. This time, it was about her. A month of disrupted mornings had earned her this moment of indulgence. His cock was already hard, but she made it clear—her pleasure came first.
At first, she felt only the heat of his breath against her slit. Then his tongue made contact, circling her clit, teasing her opening. She gasped. Her hands tangled in his thick, dark hair as she tugged, her body responding with moans and shudders. His hand slid up to her breast, palming and squeezing, his fingers teasing her nipples while his mouth worked between her thighs.
He groaned into her, stroking himself with one hand while continuing to eat her out. Her hips bucked against his face, her moans growing louder. Her stomach tightened, heat pooling low until the pressure became too much to bear.
When the orgasm hit, her thighs clamped around his head, her body shaking, breath ragged. She opened her eyes just in time to see that he had come too—his seed spilled across the floor.
She relaxed, legs shaky, heart pounding. Edik looked up at her, his mouth still slick from her pleasure, and smiled.
It was only then that he reminded her about the tea.
Nane laughed, promising him tea—and so much more.