It's Perfectly Normal

by Bonny Magret

Title: It's Perfectly Normal
Author: Bonny Magret (bonnymagret@hotmail.com)
Archive: If you're brave enough to, help yourself
Category: Q/O, PWP, Humour
Rating: Grown-up to at least middle age.
Summary: It's May!
Warning: If you squick easily because younglings are around, you've been warned.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Lucas thought these guys up, and owns them entirely. I am just trying to bring them to life off screen.
Feedback: All comers welcome – any day, any kind any way.
Note: The hard thing about doing betas is all the bunnies they spawn. You can blame this one on Inya Dreems latest MMoM offering, "Lacking Comfort".

"Let me explain," he said as he pushed on one of Obi-Wan's knees, nudging them further apart.

Obi-Wan tried not to flinch at the touch. It wasn't easy. It had been mortifying enough when he'd been caught wanking in what he had thought was a private carrel in Jacosta Nu's map room four tens ago, but to be put through this was. . .well, it was just unspeakable.

"For the average humanoid male, the copulatory organ will increase in length by half again, but in diameter, only about ten percent." The Toydarian master fluttered over Obi-Wan's shoulder, a telescopic pointer raised toward the anatomic diagram on the class viewscreen.

"Padawan," Master Yaat said out of the side of his mouth between his two overlapping molars, "please perform properly so the younglings can observe."

Obi-Wan looked down; to his utter humiliation, he was only at half-mast and the master had already finished his discussion of the anatomical terms involved in obtaining an erection.

A tiny Gamorrean was struggling in his chair to get his leather breeches loosened enough to look down into his crotch. The two Twi'lek girls, one a pastel pink and the other an iridescent blue, were tittering on the side, twirling and untwirling their tentacles together. The Ithorian child (sex undetermined as yet) was busy taking copious notes, punching its datapad rapidly, making an erratic tapping noise.

It was hard enough as it was to concentrate on the task at hand without having to watch the little Nautolan boy in the front row, who had quickly found his male copulatory organ and, by mimicking Obi-Wan's movements for just a few strokes, produced a prodigious example of why his species were sought out as male prostitutes and lovers.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes to avoid the sight. Penis-envy was not going to make this any easier. He'd never been on a sparing roster with Kit Fisto, who was senior to him by only a few years, but he was certainly going to see what he could do to accomplish that after the demonstration he had just witnessed. One shared shower room would reveal whether all Nautolans were so well endowed.

The Toydarian fluttered around and continued his lecture, but Obi-Wan forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand until he had blocked out that whiney voice to nothing but a susurrant undertone. Qui-Gon. He needed to focus on his beloved-but-unattainable master. The man whose physical attributes had fueled his wet dreams for the last year. Or maybe two. The man whose flaccid cockhead hung well below the bottom of his sac. Just imagine what it would look like at full mast. Jutting out of the dark curls at his groin. The only curly hair on his mature body. Wasn't it odd that he had such straight hair on his head, the silver and grey strands like flowing silk, but his pubic hair was as tightly wound as Mace's? Come to think of it, that was true of most of the humanoids he knew. But then Mon Calamarians are humanoid, but they don't have pubic hair. For that matter, they don't really have hair. Or at least Bant didn't. But then she was female.

"Padawan!"

Obi-Wan's reverie was broken by a sharp crack on his thigh.

Toydarians always looked a bit pissed off, but Master Yaat looked positively irate.

"Yes, sir," Obi-Wan answered quickly. "I'm…sorry."

Master Yaat turned back to his class of younglings. "Some humanoids have difficulty maintaining an erection," he sneered. "As you can all clearly see."

The whole class broke out in childish giggling. Well, all except for the Gamorrean, who didn't seem to get the joke. But then he couldn't seem to get much at the moment.

Obi-Wan had heard the rumors in the padawan's lounge about what would happen if you got caught engaging in any sexual conduct in a public place. That's why they had these classes. All Jedi were expected to learn how to control their own urges, their bodily needs. And classes like this one were where they learned. Obi-Wan remembered the demonstration at his own humanoid sexual anatomy class. He hadn't realized at the time that the Neimoidian demonstrator must have been a padawan – they all looked ancient even as younglings. And their male copulatory organs weren't very impressive, either. The model had done his duty, but then he probably was helped along by the fact that the master for the class was a particularly lovely green Twi'lek who used soft stroking fingers instead of a pointer and brushed her round breasts against the model's shoulder as she directed the attention of the pupils. Obi-Wan certainly wasn't getting any similar inspiration from Master Yaat.

Once again Obi-Wan bowed his head in chagrin. And once again he resumed his stroking. "Some lube would help," he mumbled toward the master.

"Pardon me?" Master Yaat queried.

"I said," Obi-Wan repeated through clinched teeth, "that some lube would help. Make it smoother."

Master Yaat guffawed. "Class," he announced, "this human has asked that I provide him with lube to assist him in his demonstration. Do you remember the discussion we had about female lubrication?"

Obi-Wan felt through the force that a small object was hurtling toward him and reached out his free hand to grasp it. A tube of lube. The writing on it was unreadable and the condition of the thing was that of a well-used toothpaste tube. He wasn't the first model to ask for this kind of a prop. He flipped open the top and squeezed some of the substance out onto his other hand. As he liberally spread it on his male copulatory organ, the smell hit his nostrils. At first he couldn't place it, but then it struck him. A locker room. The smell of male sweat and steam, of hot bodies, of the hard white soap the temple showers were all stocked with.

And there was Qui-Gon. Standing beneath the shower head while the hot water spray hit him full in the face and sluiced down his body. His hands were occupied at his groin. Not in a sexual way. He was just working the soap into a lather and rubbing it around his groin. Cupping the heavy cock in one hand, he used the fingers of his other hand to slide between the glans and the thick foreskin that covered it, cleaning it thoroughly. He pulled the foreskin back and held his penis against the stream of water running down his belly to rinse off the soap. Then he lathered his hands again and reached further down to cup his scrotum and to carefully wash, stretching the wrinkled skin to be sure that it was well scrubbed. He lifted the scrotum, looking down for the first time, and moved his body to and fro to hold himself in the shower spray, checking to be sure that all the bubbles were gone.

Obi-Wan was beginning to feel more than just a physical reaction to his own stroking. His touch, combined with the masculine smell of the lube as it warmed in his hand, were finally having the desired effect. Oh, yes, he thought. There we go. Finally.

He let his mind go back to the shower room. Qui-Gon was holding the soap in one hand and running it through the pelt on his chest, working up another thick lather. He used the other hand to scratch through the hair, reaching across his chest to rub hard in his armpit. Then he transferred the soap to the other hand and repeated the action on the other side. Then his shoulders got a similar treatment.

Obi-Wan was getting there. He could feel his balls start to draw up against his perineum, his foreskin fully retracted, his fingertips lingering to rub against the sensitive spot behind the crown. Aaahh. Now that was sweet.

Qui-Gon used both hands to work up another batch of lather from the soap, this time a mass of bubbles, shiny and iridescent in the harsh light of the shower room. He braced one arm against the shower wall in front of him, turned his face back into the shower spray and ran his other hand down between his buttocks, probing with a long middle finger. Obi-Wan could see his fingers moving, almost an imitation of a thrust, and then all the fingers save the long one splayed out, pressing into the firm flesh of the round cheeks. The hand undulated as the finger moved, pressing further into the crack. It had to be past the entrance, stretching the tight muscle, going deep into the hot channel. Who would Qui-Gon be cleaning himself, no, preparing himself, for? Then the hand moved and two fingers went in, moving, working the entrance more open, stretching. A faint groan could be heard when the hand shifted again and now only a thumb and little finger could be seen. Three fingers. Stroking, thrusting, seeking, slick with soap and sliding easily past the loosened muscles. No, not cleaning; not preparing. Knowing fingers pushing inside that glorious man.

And then a quiver went through Qui-Gon's body. The kind of quiver that Obi-Wan knew well. It was the quiver that you felt when you reached inside yourself and stroked across that nub, that sweet spot, and felt the pleasure explode from deep within you.

And Obi-Wan came. Oblivious to his surroundings, he pulled hard on his cock, stretching it, straining to force the semen out of himself, to let the creamy streams land where they would, to savor each little shudder that drew him into himself, into the moment of climax.

"The normal humanoid male only produces about a teaspoon of semen with each ejaculation."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see the rapt expressions on the faces of all the younglings. Even the Twe'lik girls had stopped their tittering and the Gamorrean had given up on his own bodily search. Obi-Wan looked down to see wet lines of come splashed across the chest of his undertunic, his hand still gripping his softening cock.

"As you can see," Master Yaat continued, "this human has produced considerably more ejaculate than is strictly necessary for insemination of a mate."

The master turned to Obi-Wan. "Thank you, Padawan, for your demonstration. You may now leave."

There was nothing for Obi-Wan to use to wipe the come off his clothing, or to clean his hand, which was slimy with the mixture of semen and lube. Surreptitiously, he tried to wipe it off on his small clothes as he pulled them up. It was better than nothing.

The lecture continued. "When reproduction is not sought, humanoid males have been known to insert their penises into the anuses of either sex, although it is generally other males with whom they perform this behavior. Presumably, they prefer this, perhaps because the anal muscles are tighter than the female vagina and thus perhaps can cause greater pleasure." The Toydarian turned back to the dressing padawan. "As you saw, considerable pressure on the copulatory organ was required in order for this model to achieve ejaculation."

Obi-Wan didn't bother to properly tie his uniform strings, opting for only the knots that would be required to keep his leggings from falling off as he exited the classroom. As he hurried across the front of the room, he heard, "Now, younglings, let's all give this young man our thanks."

"Thank you, sir," came the chorus from the still-enraptured younglings.

Obi-Wan knew his face must be flaming red as he got out the door as quickly as possible.

Only to find his master leaning nonchalantly against the wall across the hall.

"Now that wasn't too bad, was it?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice remarkably free of sarcasm. "It's all perfectly normal, you know."

"No, Master," Obi-Wan answered. "I mean, yes, Master. I know."

"I should imagine it will be easier to concentrate on your studies in the map room hereafter," Qui-Gon stated very matter-of-factly as he turned to walk up the hall, allowing his padawan to step into the familiar spot slightly behind and to his master's left.