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.

Ruby in Paris

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

Is it our bodies trying to direct us back where we belong, paired up with another body?

So, like a farmer expecting the big wet after the long dry season, my mind drifts to a wet, wet Ruby.

It’s a hot memory.


Her apartment bathroom had fogged up. 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 to boot.

My brunette coquette, so 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 brunette. impish gleeful in the sexual moment.

Yet her bathroom, so glum.

Once, like the now run-down apartment block she lived in, this bathroom in its heyday was a statement of 30s elegance. The white porcelain bathtub still had a curvy charm like a familiar plump figure. Around it went a high rail with a green plastic shower curtain. Black fish covered the curtain, though they swam through mould spots.

I liked the bathroom's tessellated black and white floor tiles, but they had lost their shine. Worn dull by wet feet through time. The matching wall tiles, here and there, hinted at their original lustrous glaze. The cracked ones, natural wear and tear. The loose ones and the grotty grouted ones, the signs of a lack of love. Like the chrome towel rail pushed against the skirting edge. It had fallen off and was awaiting the promise of landlord repairs.

Ruby had said, it fell off last year.

Last year, I was not in Paris.

Last year my life pursued a different girl a continent away.

Last year was like lost luggage. It could turn up in your thoughts or never reappear.

How had we got here?

So simple, yet overlaid by life.

It all started with a knock on her apartment door. Well, the second or third time knocking.

My oh my - Ruby had changed since I had last seen her over a couple of years ago! I knew she was studying at the Sorbonne and had a local work permit.

She had her usual immediate confidence, but I was staring at her. She was an absolute cutie! A pixie hair cut softened her features and gave a particular edge to her look.  Her teenage ponytail was gone.

She welcomed me into her small apartment.

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

“Yeah, your mum gave me your contact, as she let you know.”

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

Her response smug.

I was checking Ruby out with fleeting, furtive glances. I convinced myself her stunning eyelashes were not natural. They were so long.

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

Her tongue passed in a deliberate and deft way over her bottom lip.

She knew I was watching her.

Ruby played with me.

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

I wanted to bluff the feisty brunette.

I had no recent sexual exploits to draw on and my head slid down 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 had the right to jolt me back into the truth of her hospitality, as a family onus.

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

She had me there; she had me worked out.

 I had no reply.

I was glad I had the mug to hold onto and to sip from, as something to do.

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 smiled her perpetual success with men.

She sipped her coffee.

Then she teased me, "Well bad luck perv, I get it all in a stunning riverside penthouse.”

“It’s the haircut,” I ventured.

Well, in part. She was arresting in tight denim.

“Yeah, sure, but I will have to agree with you for once. I followed the recommendation of a girl-friend at work,” she said with a randy sparkle.


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

She got me set up for the night on her worn sofa.

I had already thought, once or twice, the unthinkable: sharing her bed.

Ruby was so hot; I couldn’t resist the idea.

But sex needs reciprocation.

Without even a glance, Ruby left me for her bedroom, the only one in the apartment.

“Thanks, Ruby,” I muttered.

I should have let her hear it.


In the days that followed I shared her apartment as a place to sleep. She was often not there, working night shifts or on sleep overs with her man.

After a Museum Day, I was on my way back to Ruby’s apartment in the late afternoon. I was at the small café, a few doors along from the apartment block. I peeped in, as you do in a human-interest way. To my surprise, I saw Ruby sitting alone, indifferent to the coffee cup on the table in front of her. She actually appeared lonely. I had never encountered this emotion in her before.

Had she had a break-up?

She looked up, saw me looking at her, and her face took on a warmer smile. She crooked her finger and invited me inside, to sit with her, a small wooden table separating us.

I sat and fidgeted.

She then sipped her mocha, but she supped it down like it was a sex charged potion.

She passed the cup to me and I tried to copy the action, but I struggled to duplicate the feat.

Ruby batted those alluring lashes, a swift flirty flutter.

She took the cup back and while she sipped mocha, she took in a piece of me too, with her sea blue eyes.

There was no touch, yet it was one of the most carnally charged moments of my life.

For some reason, the brunette seemed to be placing me in her life frame. I surmised she had to be on an immediate rebound to be doing this.

I was in her; Screw you, Monsieur Paris moment.

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

Ruby’s response to this new state of affairs was most likely: You’ll miss my pussy. I can get fucked whenever and by whomever I like.


Then in an instant, the pace became frenetic. The lightest touch of fingers on the same cup made our sipping uncoordinated. The mocha was a rite of flirting, now charged by touch.

Ruby’s face torched with a seductive smile.

The contact was so light, yet it trilled with sexual energy.

A total injection of forward impetus that left the remnants of mocha to swirl alone in a cup. No need for words. No need for control. Our raw impulses matched. We were skin to skin with our clothes still on. There was nothing else for it; but, to burst out of the café. Rush; along the street. Dash through the apartment building door. Then up, hand in hand. Up, the blurred flights of stairs and plunge 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.

“Yeah, let’s make this memorable.”

It was.

Ruby and her wet milk chocolate hair shaped the moment.

We were in the tub together.

With both her hands, she lathered my chest. Next, she soaped my balls. Then she gripped my hard cock and coated it with frothy, foaming suds. My hands, not as frantic, were coating her breasts and stiff nipples. I enjoyed soaping her soft feminine belly.

In an instance, with force, Ruby hands grabbed my buttocks and we slid together. Our skin slithered together, chest to chest. I grabbed her butt too. Our privates glided into and smooched one another.

There was froth and bubbles everywhere.

We both nearly slipped in the tub.

We grabbed each other. Saved by gripping one another and a fricking tight space.

I got the shower jet head and started to slosh all those lovely suds away.

The jet head sluiced the last of the suds down the drain hole.

I turned.


Wow, Ruby, you amazing, self-indulgent, male spellbinding lass.

She was creating an unforgettable edgy sexual moment.

She had spread her sex with her hands.

The brunette was waiting.

Don't make Ruby wait.

I focussed the shower jet exactly where she wanted it. I held the spray head at an ideal distance to tease her clit with the water pressure.

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

My, she couldn't get enough of it.

Then it came.

Her soft moan.

She held her pleasure to herself, until she said, “My, that was good; beats doing it yourself.”


Again, Ruby caught me by surprise. Her petite frame scrambled up my body. I steadied and bent my thighs. We were like circus acrobats on the teetering edge.

I thought, we can't balance.

Her legs wrapped around my lower back and her arms were around my neck. I found balance only because of the excitement between us.

I held a tap handle with one hand, and I held her buttocks with my other.

We were both out of hands.

How was I going to nail her pussy?

It took a sweet, strong, sharp impaling.

Ruby raised her butt higher.

She wriggled back down.

As she did, she positioned her sweet slit to the tip of my prick; by herself.

Then in one fast, sharp movement, she pierced herself with my cock.


“Oh Fuck!”

“Fuck me!”

Does it matter who said which; or who said it first?

Beyond intenseness, it was grunts and base lust.

I was in deep.

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

This was a penis as a lance; I felt so long, so captured, so eager.

Ruby was holding on tighter with her arms, her legs wrapped higher to drive deeper.

I bent my knees, thrusting.

She was ascending the full heights of feminine pleasure.

The pixie came before me, with a lusty sigh.


I was still pounding away. I was too worried about falling to climax.

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

I realised I could hold her frame without falling.

I set out to double her pleasure as I went for mine.

I released my hand from her tush.

She held her frame, wrapped around my body, supported by my pumping.

I rimmed her.

Ruby loved her ‘balloon knot’ getting attention.

She was bacchanal, high on her second sweeping orgasm.


The pixie was off me as I got close to release.

I needn’t have worried about missing out.

Ruby smeared my erectness across her breasts.

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

She then turned on the shower.

We sat locked together on the tub floor, under a warm, soft flow.

“Awesome,” she said.

Ruby, dripping wet, looked completely innocent; with her wide beaming smile.

How had we avoided falling?

Her eyelashes fluttered.

Then I realised, awesome too, and was likely sporting a huge, post sex, male grin.

“Thank you, Ruby,” I said it, confident and clear.

Submitted: January 11, 2022

© Copyright 2022 Janus. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



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


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

Wed, January 19th, 2022 3:11am


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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