Everyone Loves Yoda
"Where is Master Yoda?" Obi-Wan asked as he licked the back of Qui-Gon's knee. "He wasn't in the council chambers this afternoon."
Qui-Gon let loose a sigh and said, "Master Yoda has...special needs that he occasionally needs to indulge. He is a respected Jedi Master, so the council looks the other way."
Obi-Wan's tongue snaked further up Qui-Gon's muscled thigh. "Master Windu was not present either."
"He assists Master Yoda at these times."
"I see." Obi-Wan sat back on his heels and looked at the naked form of his Master with a frown.
"Yes, my Padawan, I am still as limp as an Alderaan sea slug. Control is the essence of the Force."
"But it worked last time!" Obi-Wan cried indignantly.
"Patience, my Padawan. Perhaps if you tried licking the small of my back..."
Yoda finished lacing up his thigh-high fuck me boots, which were all of six centimeters high, and whipped out a tube of Ming Red lipstick. "Lace up my corset, you will," he commanded Mace Windu.
"Yes, Master Yoda. So, which sub-level bar do you want to hit this time?"
"One with bikers, I crave."
"I think I know just the place."
"Forget not the lube this time."
"Don't worry," Windu replied as he stuffed a two-liter jug of droid oil into his satchel. "This should last you."
"Step right up!" Mace Windu cried. "For only fifty Republic dataries you can bang away on a Jedi Master! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! Only fifty Republic credits!"
Yoda lay face down on the pool table of the seediest biker bar in Corascant, trembling in anticipation. He spent the vast majority of his life as a powerful Jedi Master, the fate of countless star systems in his furry little hands. Every now and then, he had to let himself go and be the perfect bottom for a bunch of seedy strangers. Strange are the ways of the Force, and even stranger are the ways of old Jedi Masters.
A Wookie strode forward from the bar, barking out a defiant question as he plunked down his credits and showed off his impressive member.
Yoda merely laughed and said, "When fisted by Frank Oz you have been, Wookie schlong not so big it will seem!"
"Yoda bottoms himself in biker bars?" Obi-Wan gasped.
"Every so often," Qui-Gon gasped in reply as Obi-Wan's tongue found just the right spot.
"And the council allows this?"
"Do you want to try and stop a horny Jedi Master from getting his rocks off?"
"Actually, I'm trying to help a horny Jedi Master get his rocks off."
"Good point. Carry on."
Master Yoda was nearly sobbing in frustration. As per usual, there was no one in this bar who could fill the aching void left behind by Frank Oz's fist. He'd spent the better part of two hours face down on a pool table as creatures from nearly every planet in the galaxy lined up to bang away on him. The pile of credits was fairly impressive, and Yoda considered asking Windu to roll them up and fuck him with them, but he had faith in the Force. Soon, his perfect partner would arrive. And besides, the Hutt had almost been big enough, but not quite...
Suddenly, he felt a strong disturbance in the Force. The line parted as a dark-robed creature strode forward. He slapped his fifty credits down on the table and threw back his hood to reveal his red and black tattooed face. "At last I shall reveal myself to the Jedi," he growled, ripping off his robes entirely and standing there in his full naked tattooed glory. "At last I shall have my revenge."
"Ooh, spiked it is!" Yoda chortled in glee.
"Um, Master Qui-Gon, isn't this a little too much control?"
"What do you mean, my Padawan?"
"Well, where's the passion? The fire? The raw thrusting and animalistic grunts of pleasure?"
"Such things only lead to the Dark Side."
"No wonder it gets so many recruits. Look, Master Yoda is the best Jedi I know, and right now he's being fucked raw by total strangers in a bar. If he can do that and remain a good Jedi, then surely we can at least break into a sweat."
"You make a convincing argument, Padawan."
"Hnnnnngggg! Oh baby!"
"More Force! More Force!" Yoda cried as the spiky Sith plowed into him with wild abandon. The air was literally crackling with raw sexual energy.
Windu took one look at the scene and reevaluated his strategy. "One hundred Republic credits to be banged by Spike here!"
"I get half," Maul panted.
Crack! "Who's your Master now?"
Crack! The light whip came down again. "Lick my boot, slave!"
"Yes, my Master," Qui-Gon gasped as he got down on all fours in front of his apprentice.
Several hours later, Maul and Windu sat back smoking cigars and divvying out their profits as Yoda finally regained his verbal abilities. "Impressive, you are."
Maul nodded his thanks, then scooped up his money and said, "So Windu, see you next month?"
"It's a deal."
Maul pulled up his hood and strode out of the bar.
Yoda turned on Windu with a hurt look. "Pimping for him, you are?"
"Dude, you've been whoring yourself in bars for centuries. People are looking for something new. I think this kid may be it. Besides, think of the lingerie you could buy with all this money."
"Good point you have."
"See, no harm done," Obi-Wan said as he settled back on his heels with a smile. "Neither of us turned to the Dark Side, and the sex was incredible."
Qui-Gon, still wearing the tatters of his Glinda, Good Witch of the North costume, said, "Next time, I get to be the Master."
"Oh no, outside these bedroom walls you're always the Master. In here, I rule."
"All right, then next time, I'll be the dancing girl and you be the cruel Hutt."