Is Cloning Legal?

Ava’s been eying the Clone-a-Willyy tucked away in the back corner of the store. She’s known for several months that she wants one – who wouldn’t want a silicone effigy of a penis with which you’re already intimately familiar, and of which you’re fond? – but she didn’t know she would be single when a rep from the company finally came by to teach her and her coworkers about the product and give out free samples. “It figures,” she scoffs under her breath to her cute colleague Miles once the training session has wrapped up. “I finally get my hands on one of these and I don’t have access to a willy to clone.”

“Aren’t you banging your ex again?” Miles shoots back with a smirk. “Can’t you just borrow his… ‘willy’?” Ava’s not sure what she was expecting Miles to say, but that wasn’t it.

In any case, he’s right. Danny is the closest thing she has right now to regularly-scheduled dick. Their supposedly one-off hookup has slid into something more akin to an unusually flirty friendship-with-benefits, or maybe an unusually chill nascent relationship. (Is it called a re-relationship, Ava wonders, if you get back together with your ex?) She texts him on her walk home from the shop – “Can I borrow your penis for a science experiment?” – and a block later he texts her back: “I might regret this later, but sure.”

They make plans for that evening: wine, Chinese takeout, and Clone-a-Willy. Ava can barely admit to herself that this is the most excited she’s been about a date in months – if this is even a date. He shows up straight from work, in the exact type of biz-casual chinos and button-down that always made her want to pounce on him back when they were dating-dating. “Someone ordered a cock?” he jokes jovially, and hands over a crinkled brown bag with “New Ho King” written on the side. “I’m just kidding; that’s our chicken fried rice and dumplings.” Ava flushes pink and goes to fetch some plates.

Later, when their bellies are full and the chardonnay has given their flirtation a tipsy sheen, Ava unpacks the contents of the Clone-a-Willy kit. She reads the instructions and then reads them again. “Alright, let’s do this,” she announces, like a foreman at a construction site. “It looks like I’m gonna mix up this molding powder mixture and pour it into a tube, and then you’re gonna stick your dick into it.”

“I’ve stuck my junk in weirder things,” Danny says with a shrug, and Ava punches his arm lightly the way she used to when he would bust her chops for liking One Direction or early-oughts Lindsay Lohan movies. Some things never change.

A matter of hours later, Ava and Danny – now lounging around in their underwear on the living room floor, glowing post-coitally, because hey, you gotta pass the time somehow – carefully extract a perfect silicone replica of Danny’s beautiful cock from their mold. They set it down on Ava’s coffee table and marvel at it in stunned silence. “Damn,” Danny finally says, with a low whistle. “I know you just got fucked, but… do you wanna get fucked again?” Ava’s glad he brought it up; she was thinking the exact same thing.

Her cunt is already wet and warm from its earlier pounding, so it only takes a few minutes of Danny kissing her and groping her pretty tits for her to feel ready to take the rather substantial piece of silicone. Danny rubs it down with good lube – she’s taught him well – and slides it inside her. She gasps; it’s firmer than she was expecting, firmer than Danny’s actual flesh and blood. But the shape and size of this fuck are familiar to her. She knows the contours of this cock like the back of her hand – in part because her hands have spent so much time wrapped around it. Now Danny’s hands are wrapped around it, guiding it all the way inside her until it touches the deepest places it can reach. She clenches around it and moans.

“Good?” he asks, with a wicked grin.

“Very,” she replies, and grabs his hairy forearm so she can show him the rhythm she wants. He catches on quickly; the tempo of Ava’s arousal is burned into his muscle memory. With her other hand, she strokes her clit, still swollen from before, in tight circles that soon have her cunt muscles twitching and clenching. “Fuck,” she curses, and Danny does.

She’s come on his cock countless times, grabbing at sheets and curling her toes, but this time is different – because this time, he can watch her closely as she’s coming. He does, fucking her through it, not stopping even as she starts to thrash around on the carpet from the aftershocks. “You’re beautiful,” he says as he lies down on top of her to hold her still and keep her warm through those delicious trembles. “You’re so beautiful.”


One of Ava’s favorite things about working at the sex shop is the workshops she gets to teach. She was always a teacher’s pet growing up, and sometimes that meant doing a little “extra-credit” research on the subjects she felt weren’t covered thoroughly enough in health class. By the 10th grade, she was a certified sex nerd, and proud of it. Now, she gets to use that deep well of expertise by sharing it – and tonight she’s sharing it with the crowd of enthusiastic middle-aged men who have gathered to attend the always-packed Fingerbanging 101.

“So first of all, you’re gonna wanna use a lot of lube,” Ava begins, once introductions have been handled. It’s the one thing she never leaves out of any sex lesson, no matter the topic.

“What kind do you recommend?” shouts some guy from the audience, as if she didn’t announce off the top that there would be a Q&A after each section. Fighting back an eye-roll, Ava turns to look at the store’s lube aisle to assess her options, but she’s beat to the punch by a sly-sounding purr coming from the back of the room. “Water-based is your best bet, so long as it’s glycerine-free,” her lumberjack-meets-viking coworker Miles chimes in. He’s polishing the steel dildos from the shop’s display case with a microfiber rag – and listening to Ava too, evidently. “Silicone-based is longer-lasting, but don’t use it if you plan on using silicone toys later.”

Ava’s impressed – she’s only ever seen Miles kick ass at selling Fleshlights and penis pumps, and had no idea he had more subtle talents. She clears her throat, adds “My clever coworker is correct,” and goes back to the lesson, explaining the location of the G-spot on the front wall of the vagina.

It’s only when she gets to the G-spot Q&A portion that Miles pipes up again. A man in the front row has asked about the spot’s ability to make someone squirt. “That can definitely happen,” Ava explains. “Usually it requires you to do a lot of fast, hard thrusting, either from your fingers or from something harder like a curved dildo.”

“But is it pee?” the man asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust, and Miles audibly laughs from the back.

“Ava can correct me if I’m wrong,” he offers, with a deferential tip of his head in her direction that makes his unkempt brown hair spill into his eyes a little, “but I think the current science on that is mixed at best, and I’ve certainly never tasted any squirt that seemed like it was pee.” He chuckles again at the very thought, and goes back to polishing the cold curve of steel in his hand. Come to think of it, the very toy he’s holding has made Ava squirt on a number of occasions, she notes as an involuntary blush creeps onto her face. Not at Miles’ hands, of course – just those of various ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends from her past – but now she kind of wishes she could sample his skills, too.

“What does it taste like?” the curious man in the front row wonders aloud, and Ava’s at a bit of a loss. She’s squirted all over partners’ faces before but never been privileged enough to get anyone else’s in her mouth. “Miles, do you have an answer for that?” she calls with a smirk.

Miles takes his time sliding the now-gleaming steel dildo back into its proper place in the display case, and tucks the microfiber into his jeans’ back pocket. He looks oddly like a car mechanic, albeit a particularly hot one. After a thoughtful pause, he muses, “Sometimes it tastes like buttered popcorn. Sometimes it’s a mix of sweet and salty. If someone’s been eating pineapple recently, it might taste like that.” He grins at the memory and goes back to cleaning, ever the picture of boyish nonchalance.

Ava doesn’t normally get flustered while teaching; no question can truly throw her for a loop, and nothing in the sexual realm is ever a complete surprise anymore. But she does struggle to get through the rest of her spiel – the remaining sections of the workshop, covering G-spot orgasms, the anterior fornix, and internal vibrators – because Miles’ brow is gathering sweat in the early-summer heat of the store, and his sleeves are rolled up, and she’s seen now that he knows more than he usually lets on.

Later, when the class participants have cleared out and their chairs have been stacked, Ava sidles up to Miles where he’s standing idly at the cash register. “You sure know a lot about squirting,” she observes, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.

“Yep,” he confirms cheerfully. “I’ll show ya sometime, if you want.” He winks. Ava wants.

Oh, the Memories…

The thing about working at a sex shop is, if you’re prone to daydreaming on the job, your workplace makes it very easy for those daydreams to take on a sexy timbre.

Ava’s bored, because the shop has been slow. It’s a Tuesday night and no one seems to have an urgent need for dildos, condoms, or Velcro restraints. So her mind wanders – as it often does – to sex.

Usually, it’s the realistic dildos that draw her eye, thick and meaty in their plastic clamshell packaging, but today her attention keeps drifting to the row of tester Fleshlights in the back corner of the shop. She’s had her fill of cock as of late; as a pansexual, she’s an equal-opportunity genital enthusiast, and she’s got pussy on the brain.

As she leans leisurely against the banister of the staircase leading up to the lingerie section, Ava’s eyes caress the pretty pink lips of her favorite Fleshlights and she reflects on the last time she had her mouth on a cunt. It was an incidental hookup – a cute boy from Tinder invited her to a house party after two good dates and they ended up having a tipsy threesome with his old friend from college, a formidable brunette named Melissa. “Call me Mel,” she breathed the first time Ava said her name, which happened to be right before their first kiss, on a couch strewn with chip crumbs from long-departed partygoers. Ava blushes easily, but especially with women, and especially – she learned that night – with Mel.

She notices now, without really noticing, that her tongue is tracing circles on the roof of her mouth, remembering the way Mel liked her clit attended to. She’d made her preferences very clear, tugging Ava around by her short red hair until she got the exact contact and pressure she wanted. Ava’s a sucker for dominant women – well, in that particular case, she was both a licker and a sucker.

There are still no damn customers, so she figures it’s no big deal if she traces the curve of one of the Fleshlights’ outer labia with her gentle fingers. She remembers the way Mel’s lips got puffier and pinker in her mouth, swelling with pleasure as the taller woman pressed her fervent wetness against Ava’s chin. It hadn’t taken long to get Mel riled up enough to take the Tinder boy’s cock – honestly, Ava can’t even remember his name anymore – but she remembers feeling wistful that she didn’t get to feel Mel’s orgasm in her mouth. It was nearly as much fun to watch the brunette’s pussy convulsing around the (admittedly very pretty) dick they’d both had inside them, but gosh, she misses the taste of a woman’s climax on her tongue.

“See anything you like?” The gruff voice makes Ava jump, pulling her hand away from the Fleshlight’s protruding pink clit like it’s a too-hot stove burner. The voice belongs to her coworker Miles, a sort of lumberjack-meets-art-school-dropout type, decked out in dark green flannel and Doc Martens. His smile is wry, like he knows what she’s thinking – like he’s thinking it too.

“I just… really love vulvas,” Ava responds with a laugh, hoping the hint of flippancy or irony or detachment in her voice will deflect from the pure, clean truth of what she’s said.

Miles brushes some dust off the Fleshlight closer to him and nods. “We have that in common, Ava,” he muses thoughtfully, and gives her a once-over with his olive-green eyes that makes her want to tell him to prove it. Like, ideally on her, now, in the back room. He wouldn’t mind, would he?

But then a customer comes in, jingling the monotonous bell over the door, and Miles dashes away to help them find a bullet vibe. Maybe someday, Ava will find out exactly how much Miles loves pussy.

How May I Help you, Sir?

Friday nights at the sex shop are always interesting, and tonight’s no exception. As the clock creeps closer to closing time at midnight in her peripheral vision, Ava’s helping yet another customer – tipsy, probably fresh from the bar around the corner – pick out a vibrator suitable for beginners.

“This one’s got eight speeds and a great motor,” she begins, giving the same spiel she’s easily given a hundred times before. She tucks her short red hair behind her ear and goes on to detail each of the toy’s intricate patterns, but her awareness of her own words only lasts so long before it disintegrates – poof – as she sees her ex-boyfriend walk in the door over the customer’s shoulder. What’s Danny doing here? Hopelessly distracted now, she finishes rattling off the toy’s specs from pure muscle memory: “…and at this price, it’s a total steal. I’ll let you keep looking around; gimme a shout if you need anything else!”

Ava’s small, but she can make good time across the shop’s spacious sales floor in her stompy Doc Martens. That’s what she does now, clomping a beeline toward Danny, who’s staring into the glass display case where they keep the prettiest things in the store.

“Hey! I hoped I might see you here,” he says, cheery as ever, when he spots her.

“Were you just in the neighborhood, or…?” she asks, trailing off because the alternative suggested by that “or” is unthinkable.

He shrugs that nonchalant shrug that always tugged at Ava’s resolve when they were together. She may have become interested in someone else near the end of their two-year-long fling, and it may have been her choice to end the whole shebang, but seeing him again now – in his signature tight jeans and flannel shirt, dark brown hair mussed from the spring rain he must’ve walked through to get here – Ava wonders, as she has so many times since their breakup, if she made the right call.

“I needed to pick up some condoms and lube and figured I might as well get ‘em here. I’ve heard this store has the most knowledgeable saleswoman in the biz.” He winks then, and Ava can’t help wondering what the hell he’s doing. Their chemistry – she notices, to her deep frustration – hasn’t faltered; their breakup couldn’t break that. She eyes the chest hair peeking out the top of his button-down, and remembers with distracting vividness what he smells like there – what he always smelled like when he was on top of her in bed, nothing between them but a sheen of sweat and sometimes a vibrator.

Ava realizes abruptly that she’s let the silence stretch on a little too long, so she barks a defensive laugh and points to the display case. “See anything you like?” She has to keep the topic of conversation light and totally unserious, because her body wants to go home with this man after her shift but her brain hasn’t yet decided if that’s a good idea. Or, more accurately, her brain hasn’t yet decided how it plans to rationalize this bad idea into a good one.

“Well, this brought back some memories…” He gestures to the stainless steel butt plug in the back of the case, and Ava blushes as pink as the pretty rose set into the plug’s base. Danny sees her flush and can’t help quirking a grin at her, the cocky fucker. He knows exactly the image he has brought to her mind: Ava bent over the end of the bed in the tiny apartment they briefly shared, her ass in the air, watching Danny carefully smear lube onto the shiny new butt plug he’d bought her as a Valentine’s Day present. “Are you gonna be good when I slide this into you?” he’d asked sternly, sending a shiver through Ava’s little body. No one else, before or since, has ever been able to awaken her arousal with just a few words, or sometimes just a look – no, not even the investment banker she’d unwisely left Danny for in the end, who had turned out to be, himself, a bad investment.

“I still have mine,” Ava says now, her voice cracking.

“Oh yeah? I’m not surprised; you definitely seemed to like it,” Danny taunts – and fuck it, she’s going home with him. It’s decided. No one else has ever been able to flirt their way into her pants half as effectively as this tall, goofy charmer.

Her eyes flick to the clock on the back wall behind him and she notes that it’s 11:45. “Did you come by near the end of my shift on purpose?” she wonders aloud, knowing the answer.

“Not officially,” he counters with another irresistible smile. “Officially, I just needed condoms and lube. Unofficially… “

“You missed me?” she supplies.

He tries to assume a nonchalant posture but it just comes across bashful. Then he shows her the contents of his shopping basket: his favorite condoms, her favorite lube. “Guess I wanted someone to use these with,” he tries, but even after all this time, she knows him better than that.

Ava bites her bottom lip and checks the clock again. 11:48. Close enough. “Let me just finish up here and we can go,” she concedes, and turns on her heel to go close out the cash register. “Oh, and pick out a vibe for us,” she adds, pointing to the relevant section of the store. “We can use my employee discount.”

Welcome Back!

Ava and Danny don’t make it into his apartment before lips mash hungrily against lips in the hallway. He fumbles with his keys just long enough outside the door that Ava goes “Fuck it” and shoves him against the jamb, standing on tiptoes and tugging him toward her by his dark brown hair in a practiced gesture she picked up during their two-year-long relationship, what feels like several lifetimes ago. He groans just as she notices he’s snaked a warm thigh between hers to press against the front of her pink panties. Sneaky, sneaky.

“I need to unlock the door,” Danny mumbles through a giggle, and Ava relents and lets him. She knows from past experience that this hallway isn’t the wisest place to fuck, anyway.

She hasn’t fully decided what she wants until they get inside and she spots what they used to affectionately call The Blowjob Chair. Made of buttery black leather, it’s the perfect height for her to kneel in front of it and suck Danny’s cock like he’s a king upon his throne. She tells him what she wants, in the type of shorthand that long-term, well-practiced sexual partners sometimes develop, by stroking the back of the chair as she walks past it and murmuring, “I missed this.”

He’s turning on the lights and says with a smile, “I missed you too.” Ava smirks, blushes, tries to regain her cool: “I actually meant I missed sucking your dick while you sat in this chair, but sure.”

He’s already half-hard in his jeans from what he once referred to as Ava’s “ferociously horny” kissing style, so it doesn’t take much to get him on board – but en route to the chair where she’s already beginning to kneel, he pauses and offers, “Why don’t we throw in some fun accessories?” He disappears into his bedroom, a bedroom she remembers well.

“What, my incredible BJs aren’t fun enough on their own?” Ava jokes, but by the end of her sentence, Danny’s returned with some leather bondage restraints and a remote-controlled vibrator she neglected to pick up after they split. “This is for later, if you’re good,” he tells her firmly, and sets the vibe on the coffee table. But the cuffs, evidently, are for now.

He slides them onto her wrists, gently crossed behind her back, and latches them together with an ominous clink. With a quick glance upward to confirm that he still wants this (and his hungry, dark eyes suggest that he does), Ava leans forward and slowly presses her face into the front of Danny’s jeans. A big inhale reunites her with the specific combination of musk and detergent she didn’t realize she’d been missing. He’s getting harder just from the touch of her skin and she wants – suddenly, desperately – to taste him.

She lifts her eyes to look at him and coos, “I need help,” in a softer register than she ever lets herself slip into while she’s at work, or with family, or on dates with random people from Tinder. Danny always did bring out a special gentleness in her. He smiles with a mix of sympathy and lust, and undoes his tight jeans, pushing them down along with his navy boxer-briefs to free his cock. Oh, she has missed that beautiful penis.

It takes serious balance and core strength to get herself situated so that her pouty lips rest against the tip of Danny’s dick, but once Ava’s mouth is where it needs to be, she opens it and swallows him whole. He moans and knots his hands in her pixie cut, a different shade of boxed-dye red than the last time he touched it. She can taste his precum beading up on her soft, wet tongue, and it only fuels her to take him deeper. His cock – she notes, with a twinge of regret-meets-annoyance – is really kind of perfect.

“You look so pretty giving me head, little bird,” Danny muses. The old, well-worn nickname makes her cunt burn under her panties; he hasn’t called her that since… well, probably since the last time they did this, which is so far in the rearview at this point that it almost seems like a sexy dream she once had. She groans her appreciation and flicks her tongue along the underside of his thick cock, the way he always used to like.

It doesn’t take long before Ava’s shoulders are aching from the restraints and her jaw is aching from the effort of pleasing Danny, but it’s the good kind of pain that just sends her deeper into that quiet, focused state she always loved most when they used to play kinky games together. She lifts her green eyes to watch his face contort in pleasure, and she wonders – as he’s coming hard down her throat – whether maybe she never really fell out of love with him. Or his cock.

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