Be Principal Celestia, who forgot her umbrella. The weather had been beautiful for most of the day, which made the afternoon rain a bit of a betrayal. You sigh, staring out from the entrance of Canterlot High. You can just see your car out in the parking lot, but it feels so far away. Bracing yourself, you push the door open and dash out into the rain. It's just as cold as you thought it would be.

You're shivering in the car now, letting the heater work its magic. Once you can feel your extremities again, you pull out of the parking lot and cruise onto the mostly empty roads. Rain patters against your windshield, and you keep an eye out for deer. Goodness knows that's the last thing you need on a rain-slick road. You don't see any, but there is someone walking on the side of the street, huddled under a hoodie. From the backpack they are wearing, it's probably a student. A principal's job is never done, you suppose. You slow down beside the figure and roll down the passenger window.

"Do you need a ride? I'd rather not have one of my students catch a cold."

The kid turns to you, pulling back his hood slightly. Anonymous smiles in relief.

"Oh yes, thank you, Principal Celestia."

Oh dear.

He opens the door and clambers in, tucking his backpack between his legs. You try not to look at his buldge, prominently displayed in such a way. You roll the window up, and he quickly shucks off his soaked hoodie.

"Mr. Aggot!"

He just looks a little mystified as he pulls the seatbelt across a thin white T-shirt that clings to his every muscle.

"Isn't that what you are supposed to do? Wet clothes only make it harder to warm up."

You gaze fixedly at the road as you put your foot on the gas pedal.

"That may be true, but you should be more modest, especially around women."

He pats you on the knee, the warmth of his hand awakening a different kind of warmth within you. Stars and void, you are getting hot and bothered from just this? You have been single for too long.

"It's alright, Principal Celestia. I trust you."

You glance at him, his earnest eyes, his warm smile, his damp hair. You snap your attention back to the road.

"Let's just get you home, alright? You'll have to tell me the way."

"Sounds good to me. Keep going straight, then turn right on South Street."

You keep the talking to a minimum on the way to his home, not wanting to encourage his crush. You pull into his driveway and come to a stop. He gathers up his things and smiles at you again.

"Thanks for the lift, Ms. Celestia. See you at school."

"I'm glad I could help. Do remember an umbrella next time, though."

He laughs at that, and gets out of your car. You wait for him to safely get inside, noticing that his parent's car isn't in the driveway. Anonymous tries to open the door to the house, but something seems to be wrong. Your heart sinks a little as he sheepishly approaches the passenger window. You roll it down, and he tentatively smiles.

"I forgot my keys inside this morning, so I'll be locked out for a few more hours until Dad gets home."

He's already shivering, but trying to look brave. You should not be doing this. You really should not be doing this.

"How about you stay at my place until your father comes back from work?"

He sags with relief and gets in.

"Thank you, Ms. Celestia. I wasn't looking forward to waiting outside until eight."

You back out of the driveway.

"Eight? Where does your father work?"

"At a survey center downtown. The only shift he could get started at noon."

You feel pretty good about yourself right now, you haven't glanced at his pectorals at all. And this is normal, teacher-student conversation.

"That's too bad. What do you usually do for dinner?"

"I make it, or eat some leftovers. Um, I can wait until dad gets back to eat, you don't have to worry about it."

You look at the clock.

5:28

Anonymous' stomach growls. You chuckle.

"Let's not add starvation to hypothermia. Don't worry, I may be a woman, but I know how to cook."

You drive home without incident, and open the door to your house. A gust of warm air billows around you.

"Ohhh yeah, that feels good."

You really did not need to hear those noises from one of your male students. You stride inside, hanging up your blazer and dropping your purse on a nearby table. Anonymous follows soon after, taking in your living room. You are proud to note that it is completely clean, unlike a certain sister's house.

"You have a beautiful home, Ms. Celestia."

You smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Aggot."

He shivers again.

"Um, would it be alright if I take a shower? I really need to warm up, and these clothes aren't helping."

You choke, trying not to think lewd thoughts.

"Ah, of course. Down the hall, second door on the left."

He smiles gratefully at you.

"I'll leave my clothes outside the door, so you can put them in the dryer. No peeking, alright?"

He winks at you and sashays towards the bathroom. You bite your lip, trying to ignore the growing heat of your womanhood. You need a distraction. Dinner! Yes, you need to make dinner! You almost run to the kitchen and start pulling ingredients out of the cupboards and fridge, valiantly ignoring the fact that a nubile young man is getting naked in your house.

"Alright, I'm done, you can put them in the dryer now."

Right, forgot about that. You feel unaccountably nervous, walking down that hallway. No reason for it, just gonna pick up some clothes, open the dryer, not think about naked boys.

Damn it. Well, two out of three isn't bad. You pause, looking at the boy's clothes in the dryer. You glance at the bathroom door, suddenly very aware of the hiss of water. You lick your lips and reach down into the machine. You pluck the boxers from Anon's clothes. So soft and silky, why are mens' clothes always more comfortable? You feel like you are 13 again, looking at a Victor's Secret catalog. You rub your thighs together, an unconscious reaction to the blooming heat of your nethers. You really shouldn't be doing this. The boxers drop from your fingers, and you close the lid. A few button presses later, and you are in the kitchen, making chicken pot pie.

It's good to be doing something, to let your arousal die down. You did say you can cook, after all. To be fair, almost everything in the recipe comes from a can, but a quick, warm dinner is best for days like today. You lay out the last of the biscuits on top of the soupy filling, and slide the whole pan into the oven. That leaves you with fifteen minutes to set the table you suppose. It's strange, setting another place at your lonely little dining room table. Abruptly, the sound of running water stops. A few seconds later, Anon walks into view wearing only a towel around his waist.

Sweet Mother, that washboard, those perky pecs, those arms, unf. When you finally make eye contact, Anonymous is smirking.

"If you are done checking me out, about how much longer until my clothes are dry?"

You cough, averting your eyes.

"Should be about ten more minutes. Mr. Aggot, would you please wear the bathrobe? It is not proper for a young man to show that much skin."

He grins.

"Whatever you say, Ms. Celestia."

This boy is going to be the death of you, you know it.

For all his whimsy, Anonymous is almost well behaved during dinner. Just the occasional moan of appreciation that borders on the risque. The conversation is pleasant, and he laughs at a few of your jokes. You knew when you got the job that you wouldn't meet a lot of single people your age. You had more or less resigned yourself to spinsterhood. Now, you find yourself keenly aware of how long it's been since a guy has shown interest. You glance at the clock, it reads 7:10. You find yourself a little glad Anon doesn't have to leave just yet.

That's bad, right? You shouldn't be thinking this way. You stand up, grabbing your plate and glass, bringing them to the sink. Hmm, you forgot about the other dishes. You set the hot water running and pour in some soap. Anon dutifully puts his dishes in, then stands beside you, ready and waiting.

"You know, you don't have to help with the dishes, you are a guest."

He smiles up at you.

"But I want to help you. You've been very kind to me, it's the least I can do."

This kid. You sigh.

"Alright, suit yourself."

The two of you fall into a little domestic rhythm, washing rinsing and drying. It feels nice, his quiet warmth right beside you, your elbows occasionally touching.

The dryer buzzes just as the last plate is put away.

"Alright, let's get your clothes."

Anon nods, happily following you to the machine. You open the door and pass them to him, trying to ignore the feeling you get when you handle his boxers again.

"Thanks, Ms. Celestia."

He closes the bathroom door behind him and you can hear the rustle of cloth. You check your watch. 7:47. Anon opens the door, looking pretty comfy in his hoodie. He beams at you.

"Ahhhh, this feels really good. I'm nice and warm all over."

You bet.

"Well, it's about time we got you home, we wouldn't want your father to worry about you."

He sighs.

"All good things must end, I guess. Let me get my backpack, then."

You stride over to where you left your purse, and put on your jacket. The drive back is pretty quiet, with the rain little more than a drizzle pattering against the windshield. It seems Mr. Aggot Sr. Has returned, by the car parked in the open garage. Anon clears his throat as you pull into the driveway.

"I had a lot of fun, Ms. Celestia. You have a great home."

You smile.

"Thank you, Anon. As good a guest as you are, let's not make a habit of getting caught in the rain, alright?"

He laughs

"Alright. See you tomorrow."

"Until then."

He gets out of your car and jogs over to his door, giving you a wave before going inside. You wave back, a slight smile on your face.

Boys are cute.

Once he is safely inside the house, you back out and drive home.

You stare at the towel and bathrobe. They are still a little damp, and smell slightly of boy. You need to wash them. You should just put them into the washing machine. The house is quiet, and your mind is filled with all the little suggestive movements Anon made. How firm his chest was.

You are going to Tartarus for this. You scoop them up and bring them to your bedroom. You lay them on your bed, your heart beating fast at the thought of what you are going to do. You strip your clothes off quickly, nipples already hard and sensitive. You lay down on the towel, keenly aware of the damp places where it touched his body now touching yours. You drag the bathrobe over you, the soft fabric stimulating your almost painfully sensitive breasts. You bring the collar to your nose, inhaling his faint scent. Your other hand slides down your belly, to the heat of your loins. You writhe as your fingers tease at your lower lips, grazing your clit.

You moan, imagining Anon naked and erect, sultry and sweet. You let go of the bathrobe collar, instead mashing it against your breasts, imagining two eager hands playing with your body. Your mind is in a feverish haze, your fingers dipping into your womanhood with increasing fervor. You imagine Anon on top of you, heavy, tender, firm, his cock sliding into your depths. This is so wrong. Your pussy clenches around your fingers. You moan, hips bucking. You squeeze your breast almost painfully, heat and pleasure building within you. You imagine Anon's sweet voice groaning in pleasure as he kisses your neck. You pump your fingers in and out of your pussy, only partly filling the hunger for his dick. Your breath hitches, and you imagine Anon thrusting, twitching inside you, unable to contain himself any longer. Your legs clamp around your hand as pleasure floods your mind and body. Your eyes roll back as the orgasm shakes you to your core, far more intensely than any you have had before

You collapse limply back into the bed, spent. As you stare the ceiling, you realize two things. You are going to a special circle of Tartarus. And you don't know how you are going to look Anon in the face tomorrow.