Ruby in Paris

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: General Erotica  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

Featured Review on this writing by DampKitten

Shower sex.

Why does a dry spell get us thinking of our most intense mated moments?

Are our bodies trying to direct us back where we belong, paired?

So, like a farmer expecting the big wet after an extended barren season, my mind drifts to a drenched Ruby.

 

Her apartment bathroom fogged.

A combination of balmy shower water and our steamy sex.

God, it was the 80s; what a great time to be alive and in Paris.

My brunette coquette.

Petite, five foot two and eyes summer blue.

Ruby, all of twenty-three.

Our combined hands were gliding everywhere in a soap-filled massage.

My little minx, her college nickname, impish gleeful.

 

Yet her bathroom bared forlorn and glum.

Once, like the now run-down apartment block she lived in, this bathroom in its heyday stated 30s elegance.

The white porcelain bathtub retained a curvy charm like a familiar plump figure.

High around it ran a rail supporting a green shower curtain.

Black lace angelfish covered the plastic, though they swam through mould spots.

Despite their lost shine, I liked the bathroom's tessellated black and white floor tiles.

They were worn dull by unknown damp feet.

The matching wall tiles, here and there, hinted at their original, lustrous glaze.

The cracked ones, natural wear and tear.

The loose and grotty grouted ones were signs of a lack of love.

Like the chrome towel rail pushed awry to the skirting edge.

Dislodged and bent, it awaited the promise of landlord replacement.

Ruby, shrugging unperturbed, admitted it fell off last year.

 

Last year, I was not in Paris.

My life pursued a different girl a continent away.

Last year stashed like lost luggage; it could turn up in your thoughts or never reappear.

 

What joined us in Paris?

The simple overlaid by the complexities of life.

A knock at Ruby’s apartment door.

Well, the second or third time, I rapped.

My oh my - Ruby presented changed since I last saw her three years ago.

Before travelling to Paris, her mother informed me, Ruby studied at the Sorbonne and worked casually at a youth hostel.

Her usual immediate confidence dominated as I stared.

A pixie haircut softened her face and directed focus to her playful eyes.

I pictured her missing signature teenage ponytail; my memory retained it cherubic and high.

 

She welcomed me into her small apartment.

“So, you found this dive okay,” she piped, leaving me to shut the door.

“Yeah, your mum provided the contact detail, as she let you know.”

“Mmm, you realise I’m accommodating you because she likes you?”

Followed by a smug half-grin.

I checked Ruby out.

A series of fleeting, furtive glances.

Convincing myself her stunning eyelashes were not natural.

Each darkened lash, whip-lengthened in their Jezebel allure.

I looked over as she made us coffee in her kitchenette.

Her tongue passed deliberately and deftly over her bottom lip.

She knew I was watching her.

Ruby played me as I goggled.

“Oh boy, what to do with you,” she jibed as she passed me a black coffee, “I suppose I could find you a Parisian girlfriend?”

 

I wanted to bluff the feisty brunette.

However, I lacked recent sexual exploits to draw on, and my head slid to the mug in my hands.

“There is still a hint of puppy eyes about you. You can’t help glancing once too often at any attractive girl, but you will have to take a reality check. I’m currently getting more than my fair share of Parisienne pecker.”

Ruby never hid her sexual exploits.

She jolted me into the truth of her hospitality as a family onus.

“Oh, don’t drown your face in your coffee.”

She exposed my shyness; she stirred my habitual hesitation in the company of girls.

I glanced at the absolute cutie before focussing on the chunky mug between my clutching hands.

My fingertips tapped before I sipped repeatedly.

 

She added to the one-way conversation, “Geez, are you worried about the keen sounds of sex? I know the walls are thin in these apartments.”

Ruby's eyes sparkled to herself, her perpetual success bedding men.

She gulped a mouthful of coffee.

Then she teased me, “Bad luck, perv, I get it all in a stunning Seine penthouse.”

“It’s the haircut,” I ventured truthfully, plus her arresting temptation in snug denim.

Modesty and memory of her ponytailed whipped verbal backlashes halted my stating the obvious; her booty shaped divine.

“Yeah, I agree with you for once. I followed the recommendation of a girlfriend at work.”

Her chirpy voice and randy sparkle made me think, girl on girl.

 

Ruby changed tack fast, as I remembered she could her sabot racing sail, “Let’s organise a place for you to crash.”

She set me up for the night on her worn sofa, providing a blanket.

The unthinkable flashed, sharing her bed.

My pounding heart stated Ruby paraded lush.

My mind grounded me sex needs reciprocation.

The pixie’s butt strutted to her bedroom.

No brunette backward glance.

“Thanks, Ruby,” I muttered.

Too quiet for her to hear.

 

In subsequent days, I shared her apartment as a place to sleep.

She was absent, working night shifts or on sleepovers arousing her man.

After a day of tourist sites, I returned to Ruby’s apartment in the late afternoon.

I passed the small café close to the apartment block.

I peered in, as you do, in a human-interest way.

Ruby slumped unaccompanied, indifferent to the coffee cup on the table in front of her.

She appeared lonely.

An emotion never encountered in her as a teenager.

Surely not a break-up?

Her face etched its hallmarks, forlorn taut withdrawal.

 

She glanced out, saw me peep at her, and her face embraced a warm smile.

Ruby crooked her finger and invited me inside; a small wooden table separated us.

I sidled opposite her, my feet tucked under the chair, and I fidgeted, shifting my weight.

Ruby sipped her mocha like a sexually charged potion, sultry, slinky.

Suddenly, she passed the cup to me, inviting me to copy her action.

An impossible feat.

Ruby batted her alluring lashes, a quick flirty flutter.

She beckoned for the cup, and this time as she sipped mocha, she explored pieces of me through her sea-blue eyes.

Her eyes scouted thirstily, and her tongue over her lips let me know my brown eyes and two days of facial growth passed muster.

 

No touch, yet it generated the most carnally charged moment of my life.

The brunette placed me in her life frame.

I surmised a determined Ruby hell-bent on rebound flirting.

I entered her; Screw you, Monsieur Paris moment.

Her wealthy man, I supposed, guilt-tripped into drifting home to a wife and children.

I could only infer Ruby’s response to this new state of affairs.

You’ll miss my body.

I can screw whenever and whomever.

 

Then in an instant, the pace became frenetic.

The lightest touch of fingers on the same cup made the sipping a rite of flirting nonsense.

The mocha charged by touch.

Ruby’s face torched seductively.

Our contact, whilst incredibly light, trilled raw sexual energy.

Craving’s impetus left the remnants of mocha to swirl in a cup.

 

No need for words.

No need for control.

Our rashest impulses matched.

We were skin to skin without clothes removed.

The compelling option dominated.

We burst out of the café.

Rushed along the street.

Dashed through the apartment building door.

Then up, hand in hand.

Up the blurred flights of stairs and plunged into each other's being, in her apartment.

 

Our clothes were scattered behind us as a naked Ruby led me to the bathroom.

What the hell?  I thought.

I should have thought, Paradise.

Her eyes flashed seduction, and her voice, her intent.

“Let’s make this memorable.”

 

Ruby and her wet milk chocolate hair forged desire.

We were electrified in the tub.

Her hands pressed in sensual circles lathering my chest.

Next, she swashed and laved my balls.

Gripping my hardness, she coated its length with frothy, foaming suds.

My hands, not as frantic, were glazing her breasts and stiff nipples.

I enjoyed smearing soapy lines on her smooth, shaved mound.

 

In a forceful instant, Ruby’s hands grabbed my buttocks, and we slid together.

Our skin slinked, chest to chest.

I gripped her butt.

Our privates glided cunningly and smooched.

Foam wayfared over bodies and decorated toes.

 

Unexpectedly, we had the awful second where our combined legs went askew, and we slipped in the tub.

Nabbing and grabbing saved us in a fricking constricted space.

Hearts racing led naturally to the sexual tussle; she allowed me to pin her hands behind her back while pashing.

 

I called a pause as I used the shower jet head and sluiced the foam down the bath hole.

I finished and pivoted.

Wow, Ruby, the self-indulgent, spellbinding minx!

She created an unforgettable edgy prospect.

The pixie fanned and pouted her sex.

She posed as I stalled.

Don't make her wait.

I focussed the shower jet precisely as required.

I held the spray head at an ideal distance to tease her clit.

On, over and around her pussy, the water hit and splashed.

She snared the ripples of indulgence.

Ruby’s thighs trembled; her fingers drummed.

Her soft moans rose and gushed as a groan.

She savoured herself until she effused, “My, that was good; beats doing it yourself.”

 

Again, Ruby amazed me.

Her petite frame scrambled up my body.

I steadied and bent my thighs.

We were like circus acrobats on the teetering edge.

How could we balance in a tub?

Her legs wrapped around my lower back, and her hands joined behind my neck.

I found balance within our excitement.

I held a tap handle and her buttocks.

We were both out of hands.

How was I going to nail her pussy?

 

Evolutionary passion forged a robust and sharp impaling.

Ruby raised her butt higher.

She wriggled and jiggled until her sweet slit poised and hovered, edging my prick tip.

Unleashing an unyielding potency, she pierced herself down.

“Oh Fuck!”

“Fuck me!”

Does it matter who exclaimed which; or who whooped it first?

 

 

Beyond intenseness, grunts and base enthusiasm presided.

Deep extended its meaning to unplumbed depths.

Ruby got leverage, welding her butt and pussy in sync.

My penis as a lance; I felt my entire length, captured and eager.

Ruby held on tighter; her legs wrapped higher to amp the penetrative grind.

I bent my knees, thrusting.

The pixie scaled heights of feminine pleasure.

My strokes faltered; I feared falling.

 

Thank you, God, for letting youth believe it is immortal.

I supported her frame with vigour.

I doubled her enjoyment as I went for mine.

My hand released her tush.

She held herself, enveloped around my body, supported by my pumping.

I rimmed her.

Ruby's head bobbed ecstatic as her ‘balloon knot’ received attention.

She gripped me snugger and her eyes closed.

While her cupid lips formed the perfect O.

She yelped bacchanal, high on her, new sweeping orgasm.

 

The pixie clambered off me as I approached release.

Ruby knelt and smeared my erectness across her breasts.

I splattered in the bathtub as she jiggled her chest to extend my wavy buzz of delight.

She bounced up and turned on the shower.

We dissolved fluidly, locked together on the tub floor under a warm, soothing flow.

“Awesome,” she stated or praised?

Ruby, dripping wet, her skin rosy, bloomed nubile innocent, centred on her impish beam.

Her eyelashes fluttered irresistibly.

I realised, great too and sported a post-sex male grin.

“Thank you, Ruby.”

I emphasised every word, confident and clear.


Submitted: January 11, 2022

© Copyright 2022 Janus. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:

Comments

Spyguy

Precious like a Ruby!!!

Tue, January 11th, 2022 7:48am

Amy F. Turner

That was quite the lovely trip down a wet and slick just as quick as youth's display. Deliciously relayed.

Tue, January 11th, 2022 10:52pm

erotimatica

Ruby sounds wild! They both seem to hand gotten a workout. Hot story. Good luck in the contest.

Wed, January 19th, 2022 3:11am

DampKitten

You write so professionally I have to remind myself that I don't have to turn the page. I love your imagery and poetic style. This is super sexy, and your lead-in to the sex; the re-acquaintance, the waiting, the coffee shop - it's all so fabulously Parisian and relaxed. It's a great story!

Wed, January 19th, 2022 5:49am

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