Don't Stand So Close to Meby Uh-hmmmChaptersChapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 1Chapter 2The afternoon sunlight drifts lazily through your office window, dust motes floating in its amber beams. The school is nice and quiet, once most of the students have left. You can feel yourself drowsing in your chair, the urge to take a nap rising. With a surge of will, you stand up and stride out of your office. You might as well check on the clubs, see how they are doing. The halls echo with the faint voices of students laughing and working. You smile at the sound, a reminder of why you come to work every day. One by one, you slip into classrooms and make small talk if the advisor isn't busy instructing. There are the occasional requisition forms and the like, and a proud demonstration or two. Inevitably, the physics club has fused with the paranormal club, and you sign off on their new charter. You pause outside the third floor music room. You see Anonymous worriedly checking his watch through the window in the door. He glances up and sags in relief. Before you can react, he opens the door and pulls you in. You find yourself facing nearly a dozen students, boys and girls. Anon beams at you. Too cute. "Thank goodness you're here, our guest speaker hasn't shown up, and we only have so much time for this part. Would you mind telling us about how you stay healthy?" You shrug. "There's not much to say. Eat slowly so you know when you're full, try to get all the food groups, things like that. Well, there is one thing. I like to take a walking break when I get too tired from working." There is some polite applause, and you nod graciously. You move to leave, but Anon tugs on your sleeve. "Do you mind if I point some things out that you missed?" You suddenly feel uneasy, but you aren't sure why. Still, what is the harm in staying just a little longer? "If you think it'll help, I don't mind." Anonymous crouches down by your feet. A hand presses upward against the back of your knee and you stifle a squeak. Anonymous gestures towards your raised foot. "Note how she is wearing a short heeled shoe. When you are walking all day, it is important to have comfortable footwear with enough support." He lowers your leg and stands up, startlingly close to you. He grasps your upper arm and turns you around. "Mr. Aggot?" You don't want to protest too much if he has a legitimate reason, however... "Pardon me, Principal Celestia. Now girls, this is a good example of why high heels aren't essential for every outfit." Rarity calls out, "Nonsense Darling, the lift is essential for true fashion!" You peer over your shoulder at the good natured laughter of the students. Perhaps this won't be too bad. Anonymous clears his throat. "In moderation, Rarity. Everyone, look at Miss Celestia's legs. Notice how the slight tension in her calf," Fingertips trail up your calf, leaving tingling in their wake even through your slacks. "and thigh muscles, and just the right amount of perk to the posterior." You bolt away before his touch slides any higher. You scowl at the young man, your face flushed. Rarity wolf whistles and her neighbor elbows her. "Mr. Aggot, that was quite inappropriate. I hope this sort of thing isn't the club's usual activities." He raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry about that, I just got caught up in the moment. I assure you, this is a wholesome club, aside from Rarity." "Please, I am the soul of propriety." You frown at the assembled students. "We shall see. I don't want to hear anymore of this sort of thing in the future, do I make myself clear?" Anonymous bows his head contritely. "Yes ma'am." You make eye contact with Mrs. Cake and jerk your head towards the door. She joins you out in the hallway. "Does he usually do these sorts of hands on demonstrations?" She smiles a little, before sobering up. "Not in this sense, no. Usually it's just cooking tutorials or modeling proper exercise posture and so on." You sigh. You are beginning to have a suspicion, and you see Mrs. Cake shares it. "Keep an eye on him anyways. Let me know if things get out of hand." She nods, then pats you on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's just a harmless crush, it'll pass." "If only this sort of thing happened with men my age..." The married woman chuckles. "I wasn't much younger than you when I got hitched. Give it time, you'll find someone." You sigh once again. "Perhaps. Well, until then I have my paperwork to keep me company, and I'll let you get back to the club." She gives your shoulder a quick squeeze, then turns back to the classroom. You walk back to your office, trying to forget Anonymous' touch. Chapter 3Be 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. Chapter 4Be Vice Principal Luna. It's pretty great being the Batwoman of the school, striking fear into the hearts of wrong-doers. You hear all the rumors through your contacts in the student body. They span a range of topics from the mundane "who likes who" to the more esoteric rumors about the true magical nature of the new student. You would be worried about how the students are viewing transfer students as likely villains, but they seem to enjoy being part of weird magical events. An acquired taste, you suppose. You have heard a rather amusing rumor that has you visiting your sister's sunny office. You find her frowning at her computer, no doubt sifting through the many e-mails that come her way. Not for the first time, you are glad you are only the vice-principal, and thus less a target for influence. Celly looks up as you enter, giving you a weak smile. "Volunteering to take over for me again?" You shudder. You tried that once, and once was enough. "I'm afraid not. I just thought I'd pass on some amusing bits of gossip." She leans back in her chair, relaxing somewhat. "And what are the kids saying?" You sit on the edge of her desk, a place she always keeps clear for you. "They say Anonymous is actually an incubus, seducing the female student body with cooking and muscles. They expect a bid for world domination by the next dance." That gets a chuckle out of her. "I would have thought they would be more creative than that. That was more or less Sunset Summer's plan." You shrug. "What's more interesting is that they think he isn't interested in any of the girls." Celly raises an eyebrow. "They think he's gay?" "The think he has a thing for you, if you can believe it. Well, it wouldn't be the first time a boy was attracted to an older powerful woman." She forces a laugh. "Haha, yes that is hard to believe." ... You raise an eyebrow at your sister. "Is there something to this rumor after all?" She buries her face in her hands. "He does like me." Well. "That sounds like a story. Should I be looking forward to a niece or nephew in the next nine months or so?" Celly glares at you. "Give me some credit. It's entirely unrequited." Something about the way she said it... You hop off the desk and crouch by her, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's okay to feel flattered by the attention of young men. Goodness knows I have a little fan club feeding my ego as well." Your sister smiles wryly. "It's your own fault for playing the scary and stern older woman. But..." She groans. "I can't believe I'm telling you this... did you ever masturbate while thinking about them?" Oh. Well, truth be told, "I've always wanted to be the center of a male gangbang, but it's easier to keep that kind of fantasy separate. Well, Anonymous is a senior, so you only have to wait about seven months before you can indulge in some nice young cock." "Luna! Don't tell me you've really..." You laugh. "Not right after they graduate, but sometimes I meet one in a bar a couple years later." Celly sighs in exasperation. "You really are such a man-eater. Meanwhile your poor sister is so loaded down with paperwork and board meetings that she can't even go to a bar in the evenings." You scoff. "More like if you do get drunk, you turn into an embarrassing lecher of a woman. Didn't you grope the bartender's pec's last time you went out?" She groans, covering her face again. "Don't remind me. I'm just glad he didn't press charges." What was it you were talking about? Oh yes. "Going back, it's fine if you fantasize about the students. Just keep it separate from reality." Celly rests her hands in her lap and gives you a little smile. "Thanks, Sis." "Anytime. Well, I better get back to scaring the students and giving the unsuspecting masochists awkward boners." Your sister laughs, shaking her head. "Pervert. At least do some real work while you're here." You give her a salute and waltz out of the office, having done your duty as younger sister. Now to be the vice-principal this school needs, if not the one it deserves. Chapter 5Be Principal Celestia. The past few months have been relatively peaceful, and easy on your conscience. You only masturbated while fantasizing about Anon around once per week, the guilt in your heart lessening each time. The young man himself has been rather busy with schoolwork as well as the increased membership of his club. Meanwhile, the school is gearing up for this year's Fall Formal, this time with a noticeable lack of jewelry of any kind. You don't even have to worry about the siren girls, they seem pretty happy with their paid internship with your old novelist friend. All in all, things are going well. You open the door to your office to make the usual rounds, only to find a familiar face waiting for you. Anon grins sheepishly. You are at once slightly warmer and anxious. "Mr. Aggot, how are you doing? I trust the club is going well." He nods happily. "Quite well, on both counts. Big Mac is a great vice-president, I'm lucky to have him in the club. But I was hoping you could help with something else..." You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. "And that would be?" His face turns red and he looks at the floor. "Could you teach me how to dance?" What. "I find it hard to believe you can't find a better teacher." He rubs his neck and sighs. "There were a lot of volunteers, but... I don't like the way the girls look at me. Like I'm just some piece of meat." Ah. What do you even say to that? "Surely one of the teachers..." He gazes at you with pleading eyes. "Please, Ms. Celestia. You're the only one I can trust." Hnnngggg. That is unfair, boys this cute do not exist. "Alright, I'll teach you. Come back here once your club is over, alright?" He beams at you. "Yes ma'am! Thank you so much!" He runs off down the hallway, his rump pert and s- Look away, Celly, look away. The car ride home reminds you too much of the last time, even without Anon being soaking wet. It makes you irritated at yourself that you still feel flustered after months of getting used to being attracted to Anon. He doesn't even have to do anything, just sit in the passenger seat, legs splayed just enough to hint at something in the crotch of his pants. You fix your eyes back on the road, trying not to remember the times you fantasized about this very situation going rather differently. Luna is full of crap, you have decided. Keep it separate from reality, fine, but what do you do when reality makes it happen? Anon coughs. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. I mean, it's not the end of the world if I don't know how to dance." What is this boy talking about? "It's fine, I'll just push more work onto Luna. Executive privilege, eh?" He smiles a little at that. "It is convenient. I was just worried because you looked stressed out about something just now." It's so nice to have a sweet, attentive boy worried about you. You smile, platonic affection welling up in your chest. "You're a good kid, Anonymous. Don't worry about it, I'm fine." He gazes at your face for an extra second, trying to gauge how much he should really worry. Too cute. "Okay, but let me know if there is anything I can do for you. It's the least I can do." ... He really shouldn't have said "anything". Oh good, there's your driveway. While Anonymous hangs up his coat in the closet, you look among your music collection. You suppose having so many CD's is a bit outdated nowadays, but you have a lot of fond memories tied to them. Now, where is some good music to dance to? You browse down the shelves, leaning down to read the album names of the lower cases. Ah, here we go. You pick out Stunt, by the Bare Naked Lords. You turn and catch Anon staring at- Your ass? No, that can't be right. Then you glance down at his crotch, and helloooo there big guy. Anon follows your gaze, then scrambles for one of the throw cushions on the couch. ... You look over your shoulder at your butt. It's not that great, is it? Anon is staring fixedly at the floor, his face utterly red. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't look away. Wait- I mean-" You laugh, honestly relieved not to be the one flustered and overly aroused. "It's fine, you're a growing young man. Why don't you go to the bathroom and take care of it, and I'll get things set up." Your heart warms at your triumph. You are a professional, responsible adult, not taking advantage of a young, impressionable man. He nods mutely and flees your gaze. Wait. He's going to be masturbating in your bathroom. ... You want to listen. You quickly put the CD in the player and cue up the first song you want to work with. Then you silently creep up to your bathroom door, ears straining to hear his cute little grunts. You lick your lips as you hear the desperate sounds of Anon's hand working his manhood. Your fingers twitch, longing to tend to your rising arousal. Wait, no, you shouldn't be doing this. Just because he got a boner doesn't mean you can- Anon groans, and all other sound abruptly stops. You bite your lip, your thighs pressed firmly together. You stealthily return to the living room as you hear the faucet turn on. You have a few precious moments to get yourself back under control, to focus on what you really should be doing. When Anon does return, you give him your best, professional smile. "All better?" He nods meekly, still visibly flustered. You could just eat him u- Focus, Celly. You beckon him over. "We'll start with the waltz. Your left hand goes here," You clasp his hand in you right, extending out to the side. "And your right goes behind my back like so." You grab his other hand and place it on the lower part of your shoulder blade. It is at that point that you notice the precise difference in height between you and him. His head is just a few inches lower than your chin, which is to say the perfect height to rest on your pillowy slopes. Speaking of which, the girls are taking up most of the space between you and Anon. The poor boy is blushing and looking away. Why does this feel good? You kinda want to fluster him some more. It's not everyday that an attractive guy is visibly affected by your sex appeal. "Um, Ms. Celestia? What do we do next?" Oh, right. "Staring with the downbeat, step to the side and..." As you lead him through the steps, he tries to look at his feet. Unfortunately for him, your chest is sort of in the way. As a result, he hasn't stopped blushing. And you think you get it now. When he was just oblivious to his own appeal, or earnestly and innocently admiring you, you felt like a dirty old woman. But now that he is embarrassed and aroused, it's easier to resist the urge to do this and that to him. You bring him around for a turn, and he stumbles. Anon's full weight crashes into you, knocking you on your back. You hiss in pain as your head collides with the thankfully carpeted floor. You look down at your chest, where Anon's head is nestled. "Well, at least your head was cushioned." He jerks up, blushing furiously. "S-sorry! I just tripped and, uh," He tries to get up, but he stops short. "Could you let go of my hands?" Hm? Oh. You should probably do that sometime soon. There is something poking at your thigh though, and you are suddenly feeling very warm. Anon licks his lips, anxiously searching your eyes for... something. "Ms. Celestia?" You let go of his hand, then lean slightly to release the other one pinned under your back. He scrambles back, his legs drawn up to hide his erection. Cute. "Sorry about that, got distracted. Are you okay?" You prop yourself up on your hands and smile. He looks down at his lap, frowning. Damn, have you been handling this wrong? "I guess you already know, but I sort of lied before. It's not because I didn't trust anybody, I asked you because..." He gives you a tentative smile. "I love you, Celestia." Oh, you precious little child. "And I can't stand deceiving you when you've been nothing but helpful to me. Can you forgive me?" You stand up slowly, rubbing where your head hit the floor. What are you supposed to do with earnest, besotted boys? You sigh. "Anonymous, I am well aware of your affection, you weren't that sneaky." He nods. "But you have to understand, I am a grown woman, and you are still my student. No matter how much I do like you, it'd be a crime if we acted on it. Get back to me after you graduate, and then we can talk on more equal footing." Your blue-beaned clit is disagreeing with you, but that's part of being an adult too. Anon slowly stands up, the light of hope glistening in his eyes. "So, when I graduate, we can start dating?" You really shouldn't lead him on. He's too young, too nice, too pure. "Yes." You win this time, clit. He beams at you, rushing in for a hug. You gingerly return the hug, resisting the urge to push his head into your cleavage. Why does he have to make things so hard? Especially your nipples? After a long moment, he draws back, wearing a goofy grin Boys are just too cute. "So, do you still want to learn how to dance?" He nods eagerly, then pauses. "Should I go to the bathroom to take care of my, uh, reaction?" You eye his bulge. Yeah, that could be distracting. "That would be a good idea. Dancing is hard enough with two legs, let alone three." He blushes, his smile trembling with happiness. Anon takes a deep breath. "D-do you want to w-watch?" Your womanhood convulses at the thought. Which is probably a good indicator. "Don't tempt me, Anonymous. I want to stay out of jail." He grins. "So you are tempted~" You scowl at him. "If you don't behave, I won't meet with you again." He sobers at that. "Sorry, Ms. Celestia. I'll be more careful." You sigh. "Please do. Now go and masturbate like a good boy." "I'll be thinking of you." Then he runs away, the scamp. ... Likewise, Anon, likewise. After a few more hours of dancing instruction, you drive him home. He gets out of the car, hesitating with the door open. "Could I get a goodbye kiss?" You shake your head, exasperated. "No kissing, no funny business until after you graduate. Got it?" He nods firmly. "Yes ma'am!" Anon salutes, then marches to his house. At the door, he turns and waves shyly before disappearing inside. Hnnngggg. You sit there, parked in the Aggot family driveway. Without a doubt, you are a terrible, dirty old woman. ... You are going to schlick so much when you get home. Chapter 6Be Principal Celestia chaperoning the Fall Formal in a fairly plain white dress. It always makes you feel old, watching these teenagers dance to songs you haven't heard of. This year is a bit different, though. You glare at Rarity as she flounces around Anon. Girls these days are so shameless, and the boys don't seem to mind. You know your parents said that the new dances of your time were too lewd, and now you suspect they had a point. Still, unless groping or worse happens, you'll hold back. The song ends, and Rarity moves on after whispering in his ear. Almost immediately, Octavia pounces on Anon for the slow song. She at least knows how to dance, and they form a rather elegant pair on the dance floor. You feel rather proud of how well he's dancing, after all that practice. So why are you still irritated? You refill your cup from the punch bowl, and down half of it before the taste registers. Damn it, someone spiked the punch while you were distracted. You flag down Luna while making sure no one else goes for a refill. "Trouble, sister?" You grimace. "Just some youthful high spirits, as it were. I just need you to keep an eye out while I replace the punch." She nods, and you go get the little cart . The outcome of the vote isn't all that surprising. You open the envelope. "The Fall Formal President is...Sunset Shimmer!" The girl is all smiles as she makes her way up, her cheeks fetchingly rosy from all the attention. "And the Fall Formal First Lord is... Anonymous Aggot! Please give a round of applause to the executive couple!" Smile, Celly, it'll be over soon enough. Anon comes to stand by Sunset, the boy seemingly oblivious to the jealous stares sent Sunset's way. After the clapping dies down, you grip the sides of the podium, bracing yourself for what comes next. "Thank you, my little students. It's been a long and delightful night, but all good things must come to an end. Please join the presidential couple in one last dance." Sunset eagerly leads Anon by the hand down to the dance floor, while Ms. Scratch cues up the final song. In the crowd, you see many couples shyly coming together, while lone individuals turn from painful scenes. It is a bittersweet sight, one you would usually appreciate... Except Sunset is pressing herself up against Anon for all she's worth. Thankfully the stage lights are turned off. You can scowl in relative obscurity, without fear of a student catching your expression and misunderstanding. This isn't like you. You're usually much calmer. You're going to blame this little mood swing on the spiked punch, that's clearly the only reasonable explanation. Sunset drapes her arms across Anon's shoulders, her eyes half-lidded and smouldering. Don't fall for it, Anon, it's a trick! She just wants in your pants, nothing else! You aren't sure what Anon says, but it gives the girl pause. Sunset tilts her head and says something. Anon shakes his head. Sunset sags a bit, then draws back to a more appropriate distance, a bittersweet smile on her face. Anon, you are such a good boy. You relax, glad to see one of your male students stand up for himself. The songs comes to an end, and Sunset gives Anon a little curtsy before joining the gaggle of her friends. Well, at least she's a good sport about it. Anon turns to you, swimming against the tide of exiting students. You meet him down on the floor. "Congratulations, I wasn't aware you were actively campaigning." He blushes. "I wasn't, to be honest. Say, could we have one last dance? Not here but, well, you're the only one here that I really wanted to dance with." Flatterer. Still, your cheeks are rather warm when you respond. Must be the punch. "Where did you have in mind?" He grins. "Well, I'm always going to your house, how about we go to mine this time?" You raise an eyebrow. Seems harmless enough, you suppose. "I imagine your father wants to see the results of your practice. Very well, let's go." Anon beams at you, seizing your hand and almost dragging you away. When you pull into his driveway, you notice his father's car isn't there. "Anonymous, is your father working this late? It's practically ten o'clock!" Anon fingers the cuff of his suit jacket. "He was promoted, so he's at a training conference in the next state over." You turn off the car, trying to think and not to think. You have a feeling about what Anon is after. It's strange that such a good, wholesome boy is interested in an old Bachelorette like yourself. Maybe it's because he doesn't have a strong mother figure. Maybe it's because he is attracted to authority. Anon puts his hand on yours, whispering, "You don't have to if you don't want to." There ought to be a limit to how much a boy can pluck at your heartstrings. With a decisiveness you don't quite feel, you open the door and get out of the car. "I've come this far. Shall we go in?" It's a modest home, not that much different from your own. Maybe a little better perfumed, and showing signs of two inhabitants rather than one. Anon flips the light switches as he goes, beckoning you onward. As you follow him upstairs, you find your heart beating more quickly. You're also a little out of breath, and you resolve to add stairs to your workout routine. At last, he leads you into a neat little bedroom, with all the usual suspects. A teddy bear, a teddy shark, and a teddy alligator stand watch on top of a dresser. The walls are sparsely decorated with posters of shirtless women, most of which you recognize as the main characters of various action movies. A pair of dumbbells lay neatly in a corner, and a decent stereo player occupies a small desk. He presses play, a slow waltz filling the small room. Anon twirls around, arms wide, innocently smiling. "Are you ready?" Who knows. "Yes." You come together as you had so many times this month, wondering at his firmness and warmth, a perfect counterpoint to your supple strength and hungry touch. He gazes up at you as you lead him through the initial motions. Such trust and affection in that gaze. Are you really worthy of that trust? Well, it's not as though you are deceiving him. You're just... hiding some impure thoughts, that's all. The two of you turn, navigating the borders of the bedroom. Anon sighs happily. "Dancing with you is the best." You feel his hand squeeze your own. "Even better than with Octavia?" It's partly a tease, partly... Jealous, that's what you were feeling. Even though you really shouldn't be feeling possessive about Anon, he isn't for you to date. He grins. "She was good, but you're much better." Damn it, why does that warm your heart? Are you really this easily swayed? ... Yes. Yes you are. In all too little time, the song ends, leaving you standing there with a young boy in your hands. You let go, but instead of pulling away, Anon wraps you in a big hug, his arms tight around you. Your loins surge with heat as he presses his lithe body to yours, your breasts pleasantly wedged against the upper part of his pectorals. Tentatively, you return the hug, lightly stroking his back. The two of you stand there, drawing comfort from one another for several minutes. Anon's head rests near your heart, his slow breathing somehow calming. At last, he loosens his embrace and looks up at you. Your heart quickens at his timid expression. "Can you do one last thing for me?" The house is silent, except for the beating of your heart "What would that be?" He blushes. "Kiss me." Oh no. At once, you are fully aware of how warm it is in here, of the heat of his skin, of the restless need in your womanhood. You should say no. You lean down. You should kiss him on the forehead, that would be the safest way to do this. His lips are soft against yours, parting slightly. Your hands cup his head, gently turning it as you deepen the kiss. He latches onto your shoulders, his tongue plunging into your mouth, earnestly exploring, tasting. Your skin tingles as you push back, writhing and sliding against his tongue, savoring his sweetness. He moans, his hands restlessly kneading at your shoulders. You instinctively press him back against the bed, then guiding him down onto it. At last, you break the kiss, staring down at his flustered face. Anon is breathing heavily, but his eyes are alight with joy. "More!" There is no turning back now. You lower yourself onto his body, savoring the way he presses against your curves. Even as you ravage his mouth with your tongue, you can feel a certain prodding of tantalizing heat press against your thigh. You hum in pleasure, your hand roughly yanking his tie loose from his neck. Unbidden, he begins unbuttoning his shirt. You pull back, straddling his legs. He lies beneath you, his shirt open, revealing the smooth firm muscles of his chest. In the heat of the moment, you shuck off your dress, revealing your white bra and panties. Anon gazes at you in wonder. "Beautiful." You smile. "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself." He blushes, sitting up. His fingers are light as they trace across the sensitive skin of your breasts. You shudder under his touch, your panties becoming noticeably damp. Gently, slowly, he explores your chest, tracing your sides, stroking your back. You knead at his biceps, marveling at how thick and strong they are. Then his hands find the clasp, and your bra loosens. You shrug it off, anxious to see Anon's reaction. He does not disappoint, his wondering gaze fixed upon your hardened nipples, his head drawing closer. As his hot breath washes over your skin, you almost feel dizzy from the stimulation. He gently cups your left breast, your nipple lightly pinched between his fingers. You gasp in pleasure, instinctively clutching at his head, his silky hair soft beneath your fingers as you pull him toward you. Anon kisses your other breast, his tongue playfully flicking at your nipple. Your back arches, instinctively trying to press harder against these pleasurable sensations. His hand slowly clenches, fingers plunging into your soft flesh. Enough is enough. If this continues much longer, you'll cum before he does, and that is unacceptable. You push him down, regretting the absence of his touch only slightly. You kneel beside his legs, unfastening his pants. As you tug them off, you contemplate his black boxers. Should you draw this out? No. You seize at the waistband and pull. A monolith of an erection rises in the air. You stroke it lightly, impressed. "How did you even hide this?" Anon smiles. "It's pretty hard, but it comes with practice." You smirk at the minor innuendo. You shimmy out of your panties, breathing heavily at the thought of what's to come. You straddle his waist, your glistening womanhood hovering above his pristine cock. His smile may be mild, but you can see how nervous he is in the way his fingers are snarled in the sheets. You lean forward, hands braced above his shoulders. You dip down to kiss him, sweet and chaste on the lips. Your nipples drag against his chest. His hips buck, the head just brushing your pussy. "Trust me." You lower your hips gently, one hand grasping his firm manhood, guiding it. Anon gasps as the tip penetrates your folds. You shudder as you spear yourself on his cock, letting out a long, slow breath. Anon arches his back, his hips pressing hard against your own. He groans, clutching and grabbing at you, scrabbling at your back, mashing your breasts. You kiss his forehead, finding sweet amusement at being so chaste with his top half while you slowly grind against his hilted dick. Finally, he can stand no more, and seizes your hips in his hands. He pushes you up a little, only to start thrusting into you with wild abandon. You moan, your hips moving on their own as you pump up down his member. He gazes up at you with lust-addled eyes, his mouth parted open and moist. You respond to the feverish heat in your gut and plunder his mouth once more, even as he ravages your pussy. His arms wrap around you, crushing you against his chest. You melt against him, tingling and hot and out of breath. All the while, his strokes only get stronger and faster, sending waves upon waves of pleasure through your system. You clutch at his hair, whimpering into his mouth. He just holds you tighter, as if he will never let you go. All at once, he stops, his hips surging and bucking against you as he hits his orgasm. You feel a glow of pride and pleasure as he twitches and shoots inside you, filling you with his warmth. You did it, he came before you. Then, as his dick begins to slide out, you go over the edge. Your pelvis slams against his, jerking and grinding as your pussy convulses around his incandescent length. Your mind goes blank as you are drowned in waves of bliss. When you can finally think again, you find yourself collapsed against his chest, wrapped in his warm embrace. Anon gently strokes your hair. "That was amazing." You nuzzle against his neck. "Yeah, it was." Slowly, he softens inside you, but you find yourself unwilling to remove the connection. Wait. You groan. "We didn't use protection. I may get pregnant from this." Which wouldn't be much of a problem for you, you can afford it. But is Anon ready to be a father? He laughs. "That's fine, I was already intending to marry you." You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at Anon. He smiles, then darts up to kiss your nose. You start at the sudden motion, then start giggling, "You are an impossible young man. What did an old woman like me do to deserve you?" He squeezes you gently, kissing your lips. "You are beautiful, kind, and patient. Someone was bound to love you, I'm just glad it was me." You sigh, melting against him once more. "Me too." Chapter 7Be Celestia, waking up on the Saturday morning after. You stare at an unfamiliar ceiling, patiently waiting for your brain to reboot and provide some answers. Beside you, you hear the blanket rustle. An arm flops onto your chest, a warm hand reflexively honking your boob. Your morning dew goes from spritzer damp to waterslide. Why are you so easy? Fighting down your arousal, you slowly turn your head to find Anon's beatific sleeping face. Oh yeah, that happened. You stew in your shame and arousal, suddenly too hot under the blanket. What were you thinking? Sure, Anon is a kind, earnest boy with an amazing body, and your vag is still tingling from last night... Okay, you are not thinking clearly here. You slip out from under the covers, specifically not thinking of giving Anon Jr. a warm wake up kiss with your cave of wonders. ... Anon doesn't stir. Right. Clothes. He said his dad was on a training retreat or whatever, right? You eye your bra, discarded on the floor. Yeah, no, the girls are free right now, and you like it that way. You pull on your panties and consider your dress. You could wear it again, but right now you want to be comfortable, not formal. You root around his closet until you find a nice long sleeved forest green sweater. It's pretty soft, as you put it on, and the fuzz tickles pleasantly at your nipples. You tug it down, somewhat surprised it covers most of the curve of your ass. You know most of your height is legs, but Anon is shorter than you, is his torso really longer? You glance at the bed, where the lithe form of Anon lies tangles in the blanket. Something to find out later. You check the clock. 8:05 AM. You do feel rather rested. Your stomach chooses this point to growl. Right, breakfast. You wander downstairs, finding the kitchen. It's pretty small, and a few minutes search nets you a little frying pan. Eggs sound good, boys like eggs, right? You can almost imagine your sister's voice, "Yeah they do~" If only your pervert of a sister could see you now. Actually, no, that would be terrible. You put some bread in the toaster and turn on the stove top. As the first fried egg begins to cook, you wonder if the smell will wake Anon up. The domesticity of it all warms your heart. Then the door opens "Chjiunior! I have returned!" That's the worst Shannon Connery impression you have ever heard. More importantly, that is Mr. Aggot. You want to hide, but the egg needs to be flipped soon. M-maybe you can bribe him with eggs... Luna leers in your head, "Mmm yeah, bribe him with your eggs." Damn it, she's making you into a pervert too. Meanwhile, Mr. Aggot pauses at the entrance to the kitchen, halfway out of his coat. Oh, that's where Anon gets his figure. "Good morning, Mr. Aggot. Would you like a fried egg?" You flip it, letting it sizzle on the pan. He blinks. "You're the woman Anon was talking about?" Oh mercy, what has the boy been saying? Are you going to lose your job over this? "I assume so. I am the one teaching him to dance." He slumps his shoulders. "I thought so, but a man can dream, right? Is he blackmailing you?" You casually tug the hem of the sweater lower, covering the bottom of your panties. Time for damage control. "No, far from it. Things just got out of hand, I never intended to take advantage of your son, I-" Anon scrambles down the stairs, clad only in his black boxers. You do not need this kind of distraction. "Dad! I thought you'd be gone until Monday!" Mr. Aggot smirks. "I can see that. Why don't you introduce me to your girlfriend?" Anon steps up beside you and wraps an arm possessively around your waist. "Dad, this is Principal Celestia. Celestia, this is Anonymous Sr. Fontleroy Aggot." "Nice to meet you." He nods. "You too." An awkward silence descends, and you try to tug your sweater down further. Mr. Aggot steps forward, grabbing Anon's shoulder, tears in his eyes. "Are you the shota?" Wait, you know that from the nipornography Luna sends you. Anon smiles back, eyes shimmering with pride. "I am." Mr. Aggot crushes his son in a hug. "I am so, so proud of you, son." "Thanks, Dad, it's everything you said it would be." Are they talking about straight shota? You think you are probably better off not knowing. Abruptly, Anon Sr. pulls back. "Well, I better let you two lovebirds have your weekend. I'll just stay with one of the ladies from the office." You watch the man leave, not sure what to think, let alone say. Anon turns to you. "Yeah, dad's pretty great. By the way, I like the sweater, looks good on you." ... "Thanks." Then he grabs your ass. Two can play at that game. Be Mr. Aggot. As great as it was to act like a huge slut in this crazy world where men are the fairer gender, that changed when you had your son. You actually had to get a stable job and get responsible. It was a long road, and goodness knows being a guy made a lot of things easier, but it still fills you with pride to see how well your son has grown up. You had been worried about him during high school, he never seemed to show an interest in any of the girls he knew. You had thought he, you know, had shit taste. But no, he was actually a patrician, bagging a stunning milf after months of seduction. You may have to step up your game. ... Maybe she has a sister? Chapter 1Disclaimer: Anon is 18 in this story. You are the cool, competent, and capable Principal Celestia. You thought after the demon, the sirens, and the god-transfer-student, you were prepared for anything. You were wrong. "Good morning, Miss Celestia. Might I say your hair is looking quite lustrous today?" You smile mildly at Anonymous F. Aggot, struggling to remain professionally distant. "Thank you, a-" You catch yourself. "Mr. Aggot. Is there a particular reason why you are waiting outside my office?" He gazes at you with a very earnest expression. "Yes, I was hoping to get your impressions on a club I want to set up. I know you are very busy, but it shouldn't take too much time." Anonymous absently tugs at the hem of his shirt, pulling it taught across his lithe muscular torso. You tear your eyes away from the spectacle, focusing on unlocking your door. "I suppose I can spare some time." You glance to either side, the hallway is vacant except for the two of you. You open the door, holding it for him. "Lords first." He smiles at that, and slips into your office with a beguiling sway to his hips. You close the door behind you, feeling a little nervous at the prospect of being alone in a room with the nubile young man. You stride forcefully behind your desk and get settled, skimming a note you had left to yourself the day before, and moving some paperwork to the side. Only then did you meet his eyes again. "Now, what is your idea for a club?" He leans forward, elbows on his knees. The neckline of his unbuttoned polo shirt hangs loose, offering tantalizing glimpses of his pectoral muscles. "It's too easy nowadays to fall into unhealthy habits, be that eating, exercise, or what have you." Anonymous clasps his hands together, the subtle chords in his forearms flexing. Your eyes jerk back to his earnest, impassioned face. You nod encouragingly, ignoring the bloom of heat in your stomach. "And while the physical education and health classes do teach good principles, they do too little to train good habits. What I propose is a life fitness club, with both a comprehensive curriculum and regular activities to cultivate a healthier lifestyle." You lean back, considering the prospect. "So, exercise, cooking, positive thinking, that sort of thing?" He smiles. "Indeed. I was also thinking that there could be a sharing time, where we talk about what has been working for us. It'll help bring us all closer together." What a typically boyish idea, but there is nothing wrong with it. "It sounds like you have really thought this through. Do you have any prospective members, or do you need time to recruit?" Anonymous pulls a paper from his backpack and sets it on your desk. "I believe the minimum requirement is five members, counting myself?" You glance across the signatures. Rainbow Dash and Applejack, no surprise there. Big Mac, isn't he a senior? The boy has some decent growth on him, you suppose he would be a good example for the group. Rarity, though, you have some suspicions about her motives. Well, it's not like you were completely innocent when you were their age. You set the paper aside and smile at the young man. "Everything seems to be in order. We'll let you know by the end of the day what rooms and times are available after school. One last thing, do you have a club councilor in mind?" Anonymous smiles shyly at you. "Honestly, I wish you could take that position. I've always admired how fit and toned your body is. I suppose I could ask coach Spitfire, but I know she has a lot of sports clubs to handle." You are suddenly very aware of your body, and the way Anonymous' gaze is drifting. You lick your lips, crossing and uncrossing your legs under the desk. "I'm afraid both she and I have little enough time for this sort of thing. Think about it, and I'll see if a faculty member will volunteer." You stand up, your arm starting to swing forward for a handshake. In a fit of boyish whimsy, Anonymous stands and embraces you, his arms clasped behind your back, your now sensitive breasts pressed against the firm planes of his chest. "Thank you so much, Principal Celestia!" You awkwardly pat him on the back, desperately hoping no one sees this compromising display. "You are welcome, Anonymous." He gives you a little squeeze, his warmth melting into yours for a brief moment. Then he pulls away, leaving you both warm and oddly cold, and unsteady. "Thank you once again for meeting with me. Have a nice day!" You nod. "It's no trouble. A good day to you too." Anonymous grins and walks away, swaying a bit more noticeably than before. You sink into your chair, feeling loose and warm in all the right ways. No, you were not prepared for this.
Chapter 2The afternoon sunlight drifts lazily through your office window, dust motes floating in its amber beams. The school is nice and quiet, once most of the students have left. You can feel yourself drowsing in your chair, the urge to take a nap rising. With a surge of will, you stand up and stride out of your office. You might as well check on the clubs, see how they are doing. The halls echo with the faint voices of students laughing and working. You smile at the sound, a reminder of why you come to work every day. One by one, you slip into classrooms and make small talk if the advisor isn't busy instructing. There are the occasional requisition forms and the like, and a proud demonstration or two. Inevitably, the physics club has fused with the paranormal club, and you sign off on their new charter. You pause outside the third floor music room. You see Anonymous worriedly checking his watch through the window in the door. He glances up and sags in relief. Before you can react, he opens the door and pulls you in. You find yourself facing nearly a dozen students, boys and girls. Anon beams at you. Too cute. "Thank goodness you're here, our guest speaker hasn't shown up, and we only have so much time for this part. Would you mind telling us about how you stay healthy?" You shrug. "There's not much to say. Eat slowly so you know when you're full, try to get all the food groups, things like that. Well, there is one thing. I like to take a walking break when I get too tired from working." There is some polite applause, and you nod graciously. You move to leave, but Anon tugs on your sleeve. "Do you mind if I point some things out that you missed?" You suddenly feel uneasy, but you aren't sure why. Still, what is the harm in staying just a little longer? "If you think it'll help, I don't mind." Anonymous crouches down by your feet. A hand presses upward against the back of your knee and you stifle a squeak. Anonymous gestures towards your raised foot. "Note how she is wearing a short heeled shoe. When you are walking all day, it is important to have comfortable footwear with enough support." He lowers your leg and stands up, startlingly close to you. He grasps your upper arm and turns you around. "Mr. Aggot?" You don't want to protest too much if he has a legitimate reason, however... "Pardon me, Principal Celestia. Now girls, this is a good example of why high heels aren't essential for every outfit." Rarity calls out, "Nonsense Darling, the lift is essential for true fashion!" You peer over your shoulder at the good natured laughter of the students. Perhaps this won't be too bad. Anonymous clears his throat. "In moderation, Rarity. Everyone, look at Miss Celestia's legs. Notice how the slight tension in her calf," Fingertips trail up your calf, leaving tingling in their wake even through your slacks. "and thigh muscles, and just the right amount of perk to the posterior." You bolt away before his touch slides any higher. You scowl at the young man, your face flushed. Rarity wolf whistles and her neighbor elbows her. "Mr. Aggot, that was quite inappropriate. I hope this sort of thing isn't the club's usual activities." He raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry about that, I just got caught up in the moment. I assure you, this is a wholesome club, aside from Rarity." "Please, I am the soul of propriety." You frown at the assembled students. "We shall see. I don't want to hear anymore of this sort of thing in the future, do I make myself clear?" Anonymous bows his head contritely. "Yes ma'am." You make eye contact with Mrs. Cake and jerk your head towards the door. She joins you out in the hallway. "Does he usually do these sorts of hands on demonstrations?" She smiles a little, before sobering up. "Not in this sense, no. Usually it's just cooking tutorials or modeling proper exercise posture and so on." You sigh. You are beginning to have a suspicion, and you see Mrs. Cake shares it. "Keep an eye on him anyways. Let me know if things get out of hand." She nods, then pats you on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's just a harmless crush, it'll pass." "If only this sort of thing happened with men my age..." The married woman chuckles. "I wasn't much younger than you when I got hitched. Give it time, you'll find someone." You sigh once again. "Perhaps. Well, until then I have my paperwork to keep me company, and I'll let you get back to the club." She gives your shoulder a quick squeeze, then turns back to the classroom. You walk back to your office, trying to forget Anonymous' touch.
Chapter 3Be 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.
Chapter 4Be Vice Principal Luna. It's pretty great being the Batwoman of the school, striking fear into the hearts of wrong-doers. You hear all the rumors through your contacts in the student body. They span a range of topics from the mundane "who likes who" to the more esoteric rumors about the true magical nature of the new student. You would be worried about how the students are viewing transfer students as likely villains, but they seem to enjoy being part of weird magical events. An acquired taste, you suppose. You have heard a rather amusing rumor that has you visiting your sister's sunny office. You find her frowning at her computer, no doubt sifting through the many e-mails that come her way. Not for the first time, you are glad you are only the vice-principal, and thus less a target for influence. Celly looks up as you enter, giving you a weak smile. "Volunteering to take over for me again?" You shudder. You tried that once, and once was enough. "I'm afraid not. I just thought I'd pass on some amusing bits of gossip." She leans back in her chair, relaxing somewhat. "And what are the kids saying?" You sit on the edge of her desk, a place she always keeps clear for you. "They say Anonymous is actually an incubus, seducing the female student body with cooking and muscles. They expect a bid for world domination by the next dance." That gets a chuckle out of her. "I would have thought they would be more creative than that. That was more or less Sunset Summer's plan." You shrug. "What's more interesting is that they think he isn't interested in any of the girls." Celly raises an eyebrow. "They think he's gay?" "The think he has a thing for you, if you can believe it. Well, it wouldn't be the first time a boy was attracted to an older powerful woman." She forces a laugh. "Haha, yes that is hard to believe." ... You raise an eyebrow at your sister. "Is there something to this rumor after all?" She buries her face in her hands. "He does like me." Well. "That sounds like a story. Should I be looking forward to a niece or nephew in the next nine months or so?" Celly glares at you. "Give me some credit. It's entirely unrequited." Something about the way she said it... You hop off the desk and crouch by her, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's okay to feel flattered by the attention of young men. Goodness knows I have a little fan club feeding my ego as well." Your sister smiles wryly. "It's your own fault for playing the scary and stern older woman. But..." She groans. "I can't believe I'm telling you this... did you ever masturbate while thinking about them?" Oh. Well, truth be told, "I've always wanted to be the center of a male gangbang, but it's easier to keep that kind of fantasy separate. Well, Anonymous is a senior, so you only have to wait about seven months before you can indulge in some nice young cock." "Luna! Don't tell me you've really..." You laugh. "Not right after they graduate, but sometimes I meet one in a bar a couple years later." Celly sighs in exasperation. "You really are such a man-eater. Meanwhile your poor sister is so loaded down with paperwork and board meetings that she can't even go to a bar in the evenings." You scoff. "More like if you do get drunk, you turn into an embarrassing lecher of a woman. Didn't you grope the bartender's pec's last time you went out?" She groans, covering her face again. "Don't remind me. I'm just glad he didn't press charges." What was it you were talking about? Oh yes. "Going back, it's fine if you fantasize about the students. Just keep it separate from reality." Celly rests her hands in her lap and gives you a little smile. "Thanks, Sis." "Anytime. Well, I better get back to scaring the students and giving the unsuspecting masochists awkward boners." Your sister laughs, shaking her head. "Pervert. At least do some real work while you're here." You give her a salute and waltz out of the office, having done your duty as younger sister. Now to be the vice-principal this school needs, if not the one it deserves.
Chapter 5Be Principal Celestia. The past few months have been relatively peaceful, and easy on your conscience. You only masturbated while fantasizing about Anon around once per week, the guilt in your heart lessening each time. The young man himself has been rather busy with schoolwork as well as the increased membership of his club. Meanwhile, the school is gearing up for this year's Fall Formal, this time with a noticeable lack of jewelry of any kind. You don't even have to worry about the siren girls, they seem pretty happy with their paid internship with your old novelist friend. All in all, things are going well. You open the door to your office to make the usual rounds, only to find a familiar face waiting for you. Anon grins sheepishly. You are at once slightly warmer and anxious. "Mr. Aggot, how are you doing? I trust the club is going well." He nods happily. "Quite well, on both counts. Big Mac is a great vice-president, I'm lucky to have him in the club. But I was hoping you could help with something else..." You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. "And that would be?" His face turns red and he looks at the floor. "Could you teach me how to dance?" What. "I find it hard to believe you can't find a better teacher." He rubs his neck and sighs. "There were a lot of volunteers, but... I don't like the way the girls look at me. Like I'm just some piece of meat." Ah. What do you even say to that? "Surely one of the teachers..." He gazes at you with pleading eyes. "Please, Ms. Celestia. You're the only one I can trust." Hnnngggg. That is unfair, boys this cute do not exist. "Alright, I'll teach you. Come back here once your club is over, alright?" He beams at you. "Yes ma'am! Thank you so much!" He runs off down the hallway, his rump pert and s- Look away, Celly, look away. The car ride home reminds you too much of the last time, even without Anon being soaking wet. It makes you irritated at yourself that you still feel flustered after months of getting used to being attracted to Anon. He doesn't even have to do anything, just sit in the passenger seat, legs splayed just enough to hint at something in the crotch of his pants. You fix your eyes back on the road, trying not to remember the times you fantasized about this very situation going rather differently. Luna is full of crap, you have decided. Keep it separate from reality, fine, but what do you do when reality makes it happen? Anon coughs. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. I mean, it's not the end of the world if I don't know how to dance." What is this boy talking about? "It's fine, I'll just push more work onto Luna. Executive privilege, eh?" He smiles a little at that. "It is convenient. I was just worried because you looked stressed out about something just now." It's so nice to have a sweet, attentive boy worried about you. You smile, platonic affection welling up in your chest. "You're a good kid, Anonymous. Don't worry about it, I'm fine." He gazes at your face for an extra second, trying to gauge how much he should really worry. Too cute. "Okay, but let me know if there is anything I can do for you. It's the least I can do." ... He really shouldn't have said "anything". Oh good, there's your driveway. While Anonymous hangs up his coat in the closet, you look among your music collection. You suppose having so many CD's is a bit outdated nowadays, but you have a lot of fond memories tied to them. Now, where is some good music to dance to? You browse down the shelves, leaning down to read the album names of the lower cases. Ah, here we go. You pick out Stunt, by the Bare Naked Lords. You turn and catch Anon staring at- Your ass? No, that can't be right. Then you glance down at his crotch, and helloooo there big guy. Anon follows your gaze, then scrambles for one of the throw cushions on the couch. ... You look over your shoulder at your butt. It's not that great, is it? Anon is staring fixedly at the floor, his face utterly red. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't look away. Wait- I mean-" You laugh, honestly relieved not to be the one flustered and overly aroused. "It's fine, you're a growing young man. Why don't you go to the bathroom and take care of it, and I'll get things set up." Your heart warms at your triumph. You are a professional, responsible adult, not taking advantage of a young, impressionable man. He nods mutely and flees your gaze. Wait. He's going to be masturbating in your bathroom. ... You want to listen. You quickly put the CD in the player and cue up the first song you want to work with. Then you silently creep up to your bathroom door, ears straining to hear his cute little grunts. You lick your lips as you hear the desperate sounds of Anon's hand working his manhood. Your fingers twitch, longing to tend to your rising arousal. Wait, no, you shouldn't be doing this. Just because he got a boner doesn't mean you can- Anon groans, and all other sound abruptly stops. You bite your lip, your thighs pressed firmly together. You stealthily return to the living room as you hear the faucet turn on. You have a few precious moments to get yourself back under control, to focus on what you really should be doing. When Anon does return, you give him your best, professional smile. "All better?" He nods meekly, still visibly flustered. You could just eat him u- Focus, Celly. You beckon him over. "We'll start with the waltz. Your left hand goes here," You clasp his hand in you right, extending out to the side. "And your right goes behind my back like so." You grab his other hand and place it on the lower part of your shoulder blade. It is at that point that you notice the precise difference in height between you and him. His head is just a few inches lower than your chin, which is to say the perfect height to rest on your pillowy slopes. Speaking of which, the girls are taking up most of the space between you and Anon. The poor boy is blushing and looking away. Why does this feel good? You kinda want to fluster him some more. It's not everyday that an attractive guy is visibly affected by your sex appeal. "Um, Ms. Celestia? What do we do next?" Oh, right. "Staring with the downbeat, step to the side and..." As you lead him through the steps, he tries to look at his feet. Unfortunately for him, your chest is sort of in the way. As a result, he hasn't stopped blushing. And you think you get it now. When he was just oblivious to his own appeal, or earnestly and innocently admiring you, you felt like a dirty old woman. But now that he is embarrassed and aroused, it's easier to resist the urge to do this and that to him. You bring him around for a turn, and he stumbles. Anon's full weight crashes into you, knocking you on your back. You hiss in pain as your head collides with the thankfully carpeted floor. You look down at your chest, where Anon's head is nestled. "Well, at least your head was cushioned." He jerks up, blushing furiously. "S-sorry! I just tripped and, uh," He tries to get up, but he stops short. "Could you let go of my hands?" Hm? Oh. You should probably do that sometime soon. There is something poking at your thigh though, and you are suddenly feeling very warm. Anon licks his lips, anxiously searching your eyes for... something. "Ms. Celestia?" You let go of his hand, then lean slightly to release the other one pinned under your back. He scrambles back, his legs drawn up to hide his erection. Cute. "Sorry about that, got distracted. Are you okay?" You prop yourself up on your hands and smile. He looks down at his lap, frowning. Damn, have you been handling this wrong? "I guess you already know, but I sort of lied before. It's not because I didn't trust anybody, I asked you because..." He gives you a tentative smile. "I love you, Celestia." Oh, you precious little child. "And I can't stand deceiving you when you've been nothing but helpful to me. Can you forgive me?" You stand up slowly, rubbing where your head hit the floor. What are you supposed to do with earnest, besotted boys? You sigh. "Anonymous, I am well aware of your affection, you weren't that sneaky." He nods. "But you have to understand, I am a grown woman, and you are still my student. No matter how much I do like you, it'd be a crime if we acted on it. Get back to me after you graduate, and then we can talk on more equal footing." Your blue-beaned clit is disagreeing with you, but that's part of being an adult too. Anon slowly stands up, the light of hope glistening in his eyes. "So, when I graduate, we can start dating?" You really shouldn't lead him on. He's too young, too nice, too pure. "Yes." You win this time, clit. He beams at you, rushing in for a hug. You gingerly return the hug, resisting the urge to push his head into your cleavage. Why does he have to make things so hard? Especially your nipples? After a long moment, he draws back, wearing a goofy grin Boys are just too cute. "So, do you still want to learn how to dance?" He nods eagerly, then pauses. "Should I go to the bathroom to take care of my, uh, reaction?" You eye his bulge. Yeah, that could be distracting. "That would be a good idea. Dancing is hard enough with two legs, let alone three." He blushes, his smile trembling with happiness. Anon takes a deep breath. "D-do you want to w-watch?" Your womanhood convulses at the thought. Which is probably a good indicator. "Don't tempt me, Anonymous. I want to stay out of jail." He grins. "So you are tempted~" You scowl at him. "If you don't behave, I won't meet with you again." He sobers at that. "Sorry, Ms. Celestia. I'll be more careful." You sigh. "Please do. Now go and masturbate like a good boy." "I'll be thinking of you." Then he runs away, the scamp. ... Likewise, Anon, likewise. After a few more hours of dancing instruction, you drive him home. He gets out of the car, hesitating with the door open. "Could I get a goodbye kiss?" You shake your head, exasperated. "No kissing, no funny business until after you graduate. Got it?" He nods firmly. "Yes ma'am!" Anon salutes, then marches to his house. At the door, he turns and waves shyly before disappearing inside. Hnnngggg. You sit there, parked in the Aggot family driveway. Without a doubt, you are a terrible, dirty old woman. ... You are going to schlick so much when you get home.
Chapter 6Be Principal Celestia chaperoning the Fall Formal in a fairly plain white dress. It always makes you feel old, watching these teenagers dance to songs you haven't heard of. This year is a bit different, though. You glare at Rarity as she flounces around Anon. Girls these days are so shameless, and the boys don't seem to mind. You know your parents said that the new dances of your time were too lewd, and now you suspect they had a point. Still, unless groping or worse happens, you'll hold back. The song ends, and Rarity moves on after whispering in his ear. Almost immediately, Octavia pounces on Anon for the slow song. She at least knows how to dance, and they form a rather elegant pair on the dance floor. You feel rather proud of how well he's dancing, after all that practice. So why are you still irritated? You refill your cup from the punch bowl, and down half of it before the taste registers. Damn it, someone spiked the punch while you were distracted. You flag down Luna while making sure no one else goes for a refill. "Trouble, sister?" You grimace. "Just some youthful high spirits, as it were. I just need you to keep an eye out while I replace the punch." She nods, and you go get the little cart . The outcome of the vote isn't all that surprising. You open the envelope. "The Fall Formal President is...Sunset Shimmer!" The girl is all smiles as she makes her way up, her cheeks fetchingly rosy from all the attention. "And the Fall Formal First Lord is... Anonymous Aggot! Please give a round of applause to the executive couple!" Smile, Celly, it'll be over soon enough. Anon comes to stand by Sunset, the boy seemingly oblivious to the jealous stares sent Sunset's way. After the clapping dies down, you grip the sides of the podium, bracing yourself for what comes next. "Thank you, my little students. It's been a long and delightful night, but all good things must come to an end. Please join the presidential couple in one last dance." Sunset eagerly leads Anon by the hand down to the dance floor, while Ms. Scratch cues up the final song. In the crowd, you see many couples shyly coming together, while lone individuals turn from painful scenes. It is a bittersweet sight, one you would usually appreciate... Except Sunset is pressing herself up against Anon for all she's worth. Thankfully the stage lights are turned off. You can scowl in relative obscurity, without fear of a student catching your expression and misunderstanding. This isn't like you. You're usually much calmer. You're going to blame this little mood swing on the spiked punch, that's clearly the only reasonable explanation. Sunset drapes her arms across Anon's shoulders, her eyes half-lidded and smouldering. Don't fall for it, Anon, it's a trick! She just wants in your pants, nothing else! You aren't sure what Anon says, but it gives the girl pause. Sunset tilts her head and says something. Anon shakes his head. Sunset sags a bit, then draws back to a more appropriate distance, a bittersweet smile on her face. Anon, you are such a good boy. You relax, glad to see one of your male students stand up for himself. The songs comes to an end, and Sunset gives Anon a little curtsy before joining the gaggle of her friends. Well, at least she's a good sport about it. Anon turns to you, swimming against the tide of exiting students. You meet him down on the floor. "Congratulations, I wasn't aware you were actively campaigning." He blushes. "I wasn't, to be honest. Say, could we have one last dance? Not here but, well, you're the only one here that I really wanted to dance with." Flatterer. Still, your cheeks are rather warm when you respond. Must be the punch. "Where did you have in mind?" He grins. "Well, I'm always going to your house, how about we go to mine this time?" You raise an eyebrow. Seems harmless enough, you suppose. "I imagine your father wants to see the results of your practice. Very well, let's go." Anon beams at you, seizing your hand and almost dragging you away. When you pull into his driveway, you notice his father's car isn't there. "Anonymous, is your father working this late? It's practically ten o'clock!" Anon fingers the cuff of his suit jacket. "He was promoted, so he's at a training conference in the next state over." You turn off the car, trying to think and not to think. You have a feeling about what Anon is after. It's strange that such a good, wholesome boy is interested in an old Bachelorette like yourself. Maybe it's because he doesn't have a strong mother figure. Maybe it's because he is attracted to authority. Anon puts his hand on yours, whispering, "You don't have to if you don't want to." There ought to be a limit to how much a boy can pluck at your heartstrings. With a decisiveness you don't quite feel, you open the door and get out of the car. "I've come this far. Shall we go in?" It's a modest home, not that much different from your own. Maybe a little better perfumed, and showing signs of two inhabitants rather than one. Anon flips the light switches as he goes, beckoning you onward. As you follow him upstairs, you find your heart beating more quickly. You're also a little out of breath, and you resolve to add stairs to your workout routine. At last, he leads you into a neat little bedroom, with all the usual suspects. A teddy bear, a teddy shark, and a teddy alligator stand watch on top of a dresser. The walls are sparsely decorated with posters of shirtless women, most of which you recognize as the main characters of various action movies. A pair of dumbbells lay neatly in a corner, and a decent stereo player occupies a small desk. He presses play, a slow waltz filling the small room. Anon twirls around, arms wide, innocently smiling. "Are you ready?" Who knows. "Yes." You come together as you had so many times this month, wondering at his firmness and warmth, a perfect counterpoint to your supple strength and hungry touch. He gazes up at you as you lead him through the initial motions. Such trust and affection in that gaze. Are you really worthy of that trust? Well, it's not as though you are deceiving him. You're just... hiding some impure thoughts, that's all. The two of you turn, navigating the borders of the bedroom. Anon sighs happily. "Dancing with you is the best." You feel his hand squeeze your own. "Even better than with Octavia?" It's partly a tease, partly... Jealous, that's what you were feeling. Even though you really shouldn't be feeling possessive about Anon, he isn't for you to date. He grins. "She was good, but you're much better." Damn it, why does that warm your heart? Are you really this easily swayed? ... Yes. Yes you are. In all too little time, the song ends, leaving you standing there with a young boy in your hands. You let go, but instead of pulling away, Anon wraps you in a big hug, his arms tight around you. Your loins surge with heat as he presses his lithe body to yours, your breasts pleasantly wedged against the upper part of his pectorals. Tentatively, you return the hug, lightly stroking his back. The two of you stand there, drawing comfort from one another for several minutes. Anon's head rests near your heart, his slow breathing somehow calming. At last, he loosens his embrace and looks up at you. Your heart quickens at his timid expression. "Can you do one last thing for me?" The house is silent, except for the beating of your heart "What would that be?" He blushes. "Kiss me." Oh no. At once, you are fully aware of how warm it is in here, of the heat of his skin, of the restless need in your womanhood. You should say no. You lean down. You should kiss him on the forehead, that would be the safest way to do this. His lips are soft against yours, parting slightly. Your hands cup his head, gently turning it as you deepen the kiss. He latches onto your shoulders, his tongue plunging into your mouth, earnestly exploring, tasting. Your skin tingles as you push back, writhing and sliding against his tongue, savoring his sweetness. He moans, his hands restlessly kneading at your shoulders. You instinctively press him back against the bed, then guiding him down onto it. At last, you break the kiss, staring down at his flustered face. Anon is breathing heavily, but his eyes are alight with joy. "More!" There is no turning back now. You lower yourself onto his body, savoring the way he presses against your curves. Even as you ravage his mouth with your tongue, you can feel a certain prodding of tantalizing heat press against your thigh. You hum in pleasure, your hand roughly yanking his tie loose from his neck. Unbidden, he begins unbuttoning his shirt. You pull back, straddling his legs. He lies beneath you, his shirt open, revealing the smooth firm muscles of his chest. In the heat of the moment, you shuck off your dress, revealing your white bra and panties. Anon gazes at you in wonder. "Beautiful." You smile. "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself." He blushes, sitting up. His fingers are light as they trace across the sensitive skin of your breasts. You shudder under his touch, your panties becoming noticeably damp. Gently, slowly, he explores your chest, tracing your sides, stroking your back. You knead at his biceps, marveling at how thick and strong they are. Then his hands find the clasp, and your bra loosens. You shrug it off, anxious to see Anon's reaction. He does not disappoint, his wondering gaze fixed upon your hardened nipples, his head drawing closer. As his hot breath washes over your skin, you almost feel dizzy from the stimulation. He gently cups your left breast, your nipple lightly pinched between his fingers. You gasp in pleasure, instinctively clutching at his head, his silky hair soft beneath your fingers as you pull him toward you. Anon kisses your other breast, his tongue playfully flicking at your nipple. Your back arches, instinctively trying to press harder against these pleasurable sensations. His hand slowly clenches, fingers plunging into your soft flesh. Enough is enough. If this continues much longer, you'll cum before he does, and that is unacceptable. You push him down, regretting the absence of his touch only slightly. You kneel beside his legs, unfastening his pants. As you tug them off, you contemplate his black boxers. Should you draw this out? No. You seize at the waistband and pull. A monolith of an erection rises in the air. You stroke it lightly, impressed. "How did you even hide this?" Anon smiles. "It's pretty hard, but it comes with practice." You smirk at the minor innuendo. You shimmy out of your panties, breathing heavily at the thought of what's to come. You straddle his waist, your glistening womanhood hovering above his pristine cock. His smile may be mild, but you can see how nervous he is in the way his fingers are snarled in the sheets. You lean forward, hands braced above his shoulders. You dip down to kiss him, sweet and chaste on the lips. Your nipples drag against his chest. His hips buck, the head just brushing your pussy. "Trust me." You lower your hips gently, one hand grasping his firm manhood, guiding it. Anon gasps as the tip penetrates your folds. You shudder as you spear yourself on his cock, letting out a long, slow breath. Anon arches his back, his hips pressing hard against your own. He groans, clutching and grabbing at you, scrabbling at your back, mashing your breasts. You kiss his forehead, finding sweet amusement at being so chaste with his top half while you slowly grind against his hilted dick. Finally, he can stand no more, and seizes your hips in his hands. He pushes you up a little, only to start thrusting into you with wild abandon. You moan, your hips moving on their own as you pump up down his member. He gazes up at you with lust-addled eyes, his mouth parted open and moist. You respond to the feverish heat in your gut and plunder his mouth once more, even as he ravages your pussy. His arms wrap around you, crushing you against his chest. You melt against him, tingling and hot and out of breath. All the while, his strokes only get stronger and faster, sending waves upon waves of pleasure through your system. You clutch at his hair, whimpering into his mouth. He just holds you tighter, as if he will never let you go. All at once, he stops, his hips surging and bucking against you as he hits his orgasm. You feel a glow of pride and pleasure as he twitches and shoots inside you, filling you with his warmth. You did it, he came before you. Then, as his dick begins to slide out, you go over the edge. Your pelvis slams against his, jerking and grinding as your pussy convulses around his incandescent length. Your mind goes blank as you are drowned in waves of bliss. When you can finally think again, you find yourself collapsed against his chest, wrapped in his warm embrace. Anon gently strokes your hair. "That was amazing." You nuzzle against his neck. "Yeah, it was." Slowly, he softens inside you, but you find yourself unwilling to remove the connection. Wait. You groan. "We didn't use protection. I may get pregnant from this." Which wouldn't be much of a problem for you, you can afford it. But is Anon ready to be a father? He laughs. "That's fine, I was already intending to marry you." You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at Anon. He smiles, then darts up to kiss your nose. You start at the sudden motion, then start giggling, "You are an impossible young man. What did an old woman like me do to deserve you?" He squeezes you gently, kissing your lips. "You are beautiful, kind, and patient. Someone was bound to love you, I'm just glad it was me." You sigh, melting against him once more. "Me too."
Chapter 7Be Celestia, waking up on the Saturday morning after. You stare at an unfamiliar ceiling, patiently waiting for your brain to reboot and provide some answers. Beside you, you hear the blanket rustle. An arm flops onto your chest, a warm hand reflexively honking your boob. Your morning dew goes from spritzer damp to waterslide. Why are you so easy? Fighting down your arousal, you slowly turn your head to find Anon's beatific sleeping face. Oh yeah, that happened. You stew in your shame and arousal, suddenly too hot under the blanket. What were you thinking? Sure, Anon is a kind, earnest boy with an amazing body, and your vag is still tingling from last night... Okay, you are not thinking clearly here. You slip out from under the covers, specifically not thinking of giving Anon Jr. a warm wake up kiss with your cave of wonders. ... Anon doesn't stir. Right. Clothes. He said his dad was on a training retreat or whatever, right? You eye your bra, discarded on the floor. Yeah, no, the girls are free right now, and you like it that way. You pull on your panties and consider your dress. You could wear it again, but right now you want to be comfortable, not formal. You root around his closet until you find a nice long sleeved forest green sweater. It's pretty soft, as you put it on, and the fuzz tickles pleasantly at your nipples. You tug it down, somewhat surprised it covers most of the curve of your ass. You know most of your height is legs, but Anon is shorter than you, is his torso really longer? You glance at the bed, where the lithe form of Anon lies tangles in the blanket. Something to find out later. You check the clock. 8:05 AM. You do feel rather rested. Your stomach chooses this point to growl. Right, breakfast. You wander downstairs, finding the kitchen. It's pretty small, and a few minutes search nets you a little frying pan. Eggs sound good, boys like eggs, right? You can almost imagine your sister's voice, "Yeah they do~" If only your pervert of a sister could see you now. Actually, no, that would be terrible. You put some bread in the toaster and turn on the stove top. As the first fried egg begins to cook, you wonder if the smell will wake Anon up. The domesticity of it all warms your heart. Then the door opens "Chjiunior! I have returned!" That's the worst Shannon Connery impression you have ever heard. More importantly, that is Mr. Aggot. You want to hide, but the egg needs to be flipped soon. M-maybe you can bribe him with eggs... Luna leers in your head, "Mmm yeah, bribe him with your eggs." Damn it, she's making you into a pervert too. Meanwhile, Mr. Aggot pauses at the entrance to the kitchen, halfway out of his coat. Oh, that's where Anon gets his figure. "Good morning, Mr. Aggot. Would you like a fried egg?" You flip it, letting it sizzle on the pan. He blinks. "You're the woman Anon was talking about?" Oh mercy, what has the boy been saying? Are you going to lose your job over this? "I assume so. I am the one teaching him to dance." He slumps his shoulders. "I thought so, but a man can dream, right? Is he blackmailing you?" You casually tug the hem of the sweater lower, covering the bottom of your panties. Time for damage control. "No, far from it. Things just got out of hand, I never intended to take advantage of your son, I-" Anon scrambles down the stairs, clad only in his black boxers. You do not need this kind of distraction. "Dad! I thought you'd be gone until Monday!" Mr. Aggot smirks. "I can see that. Why don't you introduce me to your girlfriend?" Anon steps up beside you and wraps an arm possessively around your waist. "Dad, this is Principal Celestia. Celestia, this is Anonymous Sr. Fontleroy Aggot." "Nice to meet you." He nods. "You too." An awkward silence descends, and you try to tug your sweater down further. Mr. Aggot steps forward, grabbing Anon's shoulder, tears in his eyes. "Are you the shota?" Wait, you know that from the nipornography Luna sends you. Anon smiles back, eyes shimmering with pride. "I am." Mr. Aggot crushes his son in a hug. "I am so, so proud of you, son." "Thanks, Dad, it's everything you said it would be." Are they talking about straight shota? You think you are probably better off not knowing. Abruptly, Anon Sr. pulls back. "Well, I better let you two lovebirds have your weekend. I'll just stay with one of the ladies from the office." You watch the man leave, not sure what to think, let alone say. Anon turns to you. "Yeah, dad's pretty great. By the way, I like the sweater, looks good on you." ... "Thanks." Then he grabs your ass. Two can play at that game. Be Mr. Aggot. As great as it was to act like a huge slut in this crazy world where men are the fairer gender, that changed when you had your son. You actually had to get a stable job and get responsible. It was a long road, and goodness knows being a guy made a lot of things easier, but it still fills you with pride to see how well your son has grown up. You had been worried about him during high school, he never seemed to show an interest in any of the girls he knew. You had thought he, you know, had shit taste. But no, he was actually a patrician, bagging a stunning milf after months of seduction. You may have to step up your game. ... Maybe she has a sister?
Chapter 1Disclaimer: Anon is 18 in this story. You are the cool, competent, and capable Principal Celestia. You thought after the demon, the sirens, and the god-transfer-student, you were prepared for anything. You were wrong. "Good morning, Miss Celestia. Might I say your hair is looking quite lustrous today?" You smile mildly at Anonymous F. Aggot, struggling to remain professionally distant. "Thank you, a-" You catch yourself. "Mr. Aggot. Is there a particular reason why you are waiting outside my office?" He gazes at you with a very earnest expression. "Yes, I was hoping to get your impressions on a club I want to set up. I know you are very busy, but it shouldn't take too much time." Anonymous absently tugs at the hem of his shirt, pulling it taught across his lithe muscular torso. You tear your eyes away from the spectacle, focusing on unlocking your door. "I suppose I can spare some time." You glance to either side, the hallway is vacant except for the two of you. You open the door, holding it for him. "Lords first." He smiles at that, and slips into your office with a beguiling sway to his hips. You close the door behind you, feeling a little nervous at the prospect of being alone in a room with the nubile young man. You stride forcefully behind your desk and get settled, skimming a note you had left to yourself the day before, and moving some paperwork to the side. Only then did you meet his eyes again. "Now, what is your idea for a club?" He leans forward, elbows on his knees. The neckline of his unbuttoned polo shirt hangs loose, offering tantalizing glimpses of his pectoral muscles. "It's too easy nowadays to fall into unhealthy habits, be that eating, exercise, or what have you." Anonymous clasps his hands together, the subtle chords in his forearms flexing. Your eyes jerk back to his earnest, impassioned face. You nod encouragingly, ignoring the bloom of heat in your stomach. "And while the physical education and health classes do teach good principles, they do too little to train good habits. What I propose is a life fitness club, with both a comprehensive curriculum and regular activities to cultivate a healthier lifestyle." You lean back, considering the prospect. "So, exercise, cooking, positive thinking, that sort of thing?" He smiles. "Indeed. I was also thinking that there could be a sharing time, where we talk about what has been working for us. It'll help bring us all closer together." What a typically boyish idea, but there is nothing wrong with it. "It sounds like you have really thought this through. Do you have any prospective members, or do you need time to recruit?" Anonymous pulls a paper from his backpack and sets it on your desk. "I believe the minimum requirement is five members, counting myself?" You glance across the signatures. Rainbow Dash and Applejack, no surprise there. Big Mac, isn't he a senior? The boy has some decent growth on him, you suppose he would be a good example for the group. Rarity, though, you have some suspicions about her motives. Well, it's not like you were completely innocent when you were their age. You set the paper aside and smile at the young man. "Everything seems to be in order. We'll let you know by the end of the day what rooms and times are available after school. One last thing, do you have a club councilor in mind?" Anonymous smiles shyly at you. "Honestly, I wish you could take that position. I've always admired how fit and toned your body is. I suppose I could ask coach Spitfire, but I know she has a lot of sports clubs to handle." You are suddenly very aware of your body, and the way Anonymous' gaze is drifting. You lick your lips, crossing and uncrossing your legs under the desk. "I'm afraid both she and I have little enough time for this sort of thing. Think about it, and I'll see if a faculty member will volunteer." You stand up, your arm starting to swing forward for a handshake. In a fit of boyish whimsy, Anonymous stands and embraces you, his arms clasped behind your back, your now sensitive breasts pressed against the firm planes of his chest. "Thank you so much, Principal Celestia!" You awkwardly pat him on the back, desperately hoping no one sees this compromising display. "You are welcome, Anonymous." He gives you a little squeeze, his warmth melting into yours for a brief moment. Then he pulls away, leaving you both warm and oddly cold, and unsteady. "Thank you once again for meeting with me. Have a nice day!" You nod. "It's no trouble. A good day to you too." Anonymous grins and walks away, swaying a bit more noticeably than before. You sink into your chair, feeling loose and warm in all the right ways. No, you were not prepared for this.
