Ingrained Habits

"Good Morning Ben, and how are you on this lovely summer morning?"

"I'm fine thanks Simon and how are you?" Simon was the Headteacher of the local Primary School and we'd known each other for eight years or so and had become quite good friends. Our friendship had come about as I had been elected to be a Parent Governor on his school's Board when my children were at the school, then they'd left to go to secondary school, but at his request I'd stayed on as a Co-opted Governor and then when the Chairman had resigned, I'd become Chair.

I found it really worthwhile, it didn't take up too much of my time, Simon was a good Head and had a loyal and capable staff below him and we'd developed a good working relationship that had somehow become a friendship.

So it wasn't unusual for him to telephone me, but what was unusual on this occasion was that he just seemed to want to chat. I didn't mind in the slightest, I lived alone and had plenty of time, regrettably my marriage had fallen apart and my wife and I had divorced, I still saw my children regularly and my Ex and I had even begun to cobble together something approaching cordiality.

I worked from home permanently, I was a self-employed Management Consultant, work could be manic or deathly quiet, but money wasn't an issue, and I was getting used to being on my own. Of course I did have female friends, some of whom I could tempt into spending the night with me, nothing serious, more like friends with benefits.

"Simon," I finally interrupted, "was there a specific reason you wanted to speak to me? Only I'm expecting a call soon." I wasn't, but he seemed to need a prod to get on with it.

"Ah, I'm glad you brought that up, there was a reason for my call," he hesitated, then continued, "I was wondering if you could do me, well the school a huge favour?" In the past these requests were usually about putting my head in some stocks and having wet sponges thrown at me by the kids at the school fete, so a little warily I told him I'd do what I could.

"It's just that as you know we take the year 6 pupils on a week's trip to the Wye Valley in Wales."

"I do indeed, my own children went on it and had a whale of a time."

"Well we're off next week and we've had a bit of a problem with providing supervisory cover. We generally send a couple of teachers accompanied by their husbands, they get DBS checked and it's usually the same ones that go each year." The DBS check, Disclosure and Barring Service was a government provided service that checked a person's criminal record to allow them to work with children. I had one as did everyone else involved with the school.

"This year there's been a last minute problem and one of the couples has had to pull out. I can only find one female teacher to go so we're short of a male to make up the statutory numbers. I don't suppose you're free next week are you by any chance?"

My mind flashed through a mental diary, there was nothing planned and what needed to be done could be rescheduled or dealt with remotely, but I needed to find out a bit more what was involved so asked him to clarify my responsibilities.

"To act in loco parentis in case of need, all the serious activities, the walking expeditions, the canoeing etc. are supervised by fully qualified employees of the Centre, all you need to do is to be there should any of the children need any support in any way. I don't want to pressure you, but we're really scraping the barrel, sorry that didn't come out as I intended, but if you say no, then we'll have to cancel the trip."

It didn't seem too onerous, and I did know just how much the week was looked forward to by the kids for years ahead, so I swallowed hard and agreed.

"That's so good of you Ben, I knew I could rely on you and I'm sure you'll get on with Mrs Mason fine."

"Mrs Mason as in

the

Mrs Mason?"

"Yes, is there a problem?" Her reputation had spread far and wide, there was no doubt she was an outstanding teacher, her record spoke for itself, and once the children had got used to her they adored her, but if rubbed the wrong way she could be stubborn, outspoken and prickly. We'd not exactly crossed swords, but there had been several staff meetings where I had felt the sharp edge of her tongue. To be fair on every occasion she'd had a valid point, but it would be wrong to say we had a comfortable relationship.

"I'm sure not Headmaster."

"Excellent! Oh there is just one minor thing, I'm afraid you'll have to share a room with her."

"Room as in bedroom?"

"Errr, yes."

"Surely that's not appropriate."

"Well, they are absolutely full, and as we normally have married couples we'd booked a double and they can't change it. Clearly you can't share the bunkhouse with the children so unless it's a total deal breaker...."

"Have you asked her about it?"

"We have actually, in her words, she didn't mind sharing a room with a man as long as he didn't fart or snore all night."

"What about her husband, can't he go?" A last despairing search for salvation.

"We know she was married once, but to be frank, no-one has ever had the balls to ask what became of him."

"Probably buried under the patio at home," I mumbled indistinctly.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said that's settled then. I'm sure the children will have a wonderful time."

We rang off and I wondered just how I'd been conned into that. I bet Simon was rubbing his hands with glee about how he'd suckered good old Ben into that.

I agonised over what to pack as I would with any holiday, the weather in the Wye Valley even in early summer was notoriously fickle, a mixture of shorts and long trousers, definitely some waterproofs, pullovers, sun screen, swimming shorts, and finally nightwear. I didn't own a pair of pyjamas and I certainly wasn't going to go and buy some just for a few nights. Mrs Mason would just have to put up with me in boxers and a tee shirt.

The day arrived and I turned up at the school bright and early with my case, to find I was one of the last to arrive. The coach driver cheerfully loaded my case on board and I clambered up the steps to find a sea of faces staring at me. I waved regally and my eyes settled on the other couple that was on the trip. Karen and Martin Holmes. I knew Karen quite well, she was one of the teachers in her mid-forties, a very pleasant woman, her husband I had met a few times but knew little of. They greeted me politely and we shook hands and I turned to look for Mrs Mason.

I couldn't see her anywhere, she normally dressed in browns and beiges, but the only adult I could see was half-way down the coach sorting out the seating. I took in her figure, shapely legs encased in skin tight jeans over ankle boots, with a bright red bolero jacket, clearly one of the young Mums.

She turned round, "Ah there you are Mr Manning, I was just explain to the children who you were and how important you are."

For a second I couldn't speak, my eyes glued to the pair of breasts under the tight white tee shirt. Finally I found my tongue, "Mrs Mason, good morning, I hope you haven't been frightening them off."

"I thought I was supposed to be the scary one. We're all on board now, so if you take your seat, we can be off." I looked around, "That's us, the two seats at the front." Great, four whole hours trying to make polite conversation with Mrs Mason.

As it turned out it wasn't that bad, perhaps my imagination had painted her in too dark a light, she was actually quite easy to talk to, and we found we had several areas of interest in common, sharing a love of Mozart and reading, although we couldn't agree on what should be read. My tastes were definitely modern whereas she enjoyed the classics.

The children were all excited and they were singing songs and generally chatting away, and the whole coach had taken on a holiday atmosphere, perhaps it wasn't going to be too bad after all.

We arrived and got off, grabbing our cases and sorting out who was sleeping where. All of the children were in the bunkhouse and the four adults had been allocated rooms above. We left them to pick their bunks, girls and boys separated into two different areas and I carried our two suitcases up the stairs to our section. Martin and Karen disappeared through a door and Mrs Mason unlocked the second one and strode purposefully in, followed by me.

"Oh no, no no, that won't do at all." I heard her say as my gaze fell on the double bed taking up most of the room. "I agreed to share a room not a bed." she stated firmly. First hurdle, first of many I suspected.

"It's not that bad," I ventured, "at least there are separate duvets." Closer examination revealed that in fact there were two separate beds as well, pushed together to make the appearance of a double. I watched as Mrs Mason energetically pushed them apart, leaving a two foot gap between them. Mollified, she stood upright, brushing her hands off, a satisfied look on her face.

Next she inspected the en-suite bathroom, testing the lock and emerged looking pleased. "At least it's got a shower." she pronounced. I peered in, gratified also that it did have a shower, even if it was only over the bath, mornings didn't start properly until I'd had my shower.

The other usual start to my day, a good wank, would have to be put on hold for the week I supposed. It wouldn't do me any harm I supposed, although I'd miss it. In the absence of a regular bed warmer, my right hand had proved to be a faithful friend.

We unpacked, sharing the drawers evenly, and I tried not to be too obvious at looking at what sort of clothes she had packed. I caught sight of some panties and bras being swiftly put away, but couldn't discern any details. After the surprise of her non-work clothes I wasn't so sure that that they'd be all granny knickers.

She consulted a sheet of paper. "OK, this afternoon is an easy day, we all go swimming in the indoor pool, it's mostly so we can assess their swimming abilities and grade the activities accordingly. I've packed my bikini, you did bring some budgie smugglers I presume?"

I looked at her trying to see if she was serious. "I have some swimming shorts, yes. Will they suffice?"

"Of course, I was just trying to provoke a reaction Mr Manning. Lighten up, it's supposed to be fun."

She pulled what looked to be a sensible one piece from a drawer and we made our way down to the pool where the children were all gathering. Martin and I went to the 'Male Staff' changing room and Karen and Mrs Mason into the Ladies.

The pool wasn't huge, but adequate for thirty odd kids and the noise was deafening. A whistle blew and they all went quiet. I looked over to see the two ladies at the pool edge and for the first time I got a look at their bodies.

Karen had that familiar middle aged look, slightly pear shaped, with two full breasts separated by a deep cleavage. Her costume looked a bit old fashioned and I thought I could detect a few stray hairs poking out from the legs. My breath was almost taken away by Mrs Mason however, her costume looked almost professional, high necked and quite high cut on the legs, and her body looked as good as the Olympic swimmers I had recently been ogling on the TV. Her breasts looked flat, but two obvious points stood out and as my gaze dropped, I could see her mons was quite pronounced. Instinctively I pulled my slightly flabby stomach in.

Karen and Mrs Mason were soon busy organising them into groups and to be honest, Martin and I had little to do. I watched as Mrs Mason slipped into the water to demonstrate the strokes and when I saw the way she slid through the water seemingly without effort, I was more than impressed. Karen was efficient, but just not in her counterpart's class. The session finished, we all changed and had an hour or so to kill before dinner.

"I don't suppose there's a bar?" I ventured hopefully.

"'Fraid not." replied Martin, "Place is totally alcohol free, more's the pity."

Dinner was communal, the food wasn't bad, but no wine regrettably. The children had 'supervised activities' afterwards, which basically meant that we had to be there, but they all got on with what they wanted to do. There was table tennis, board games, a small library and they all played quite happily until we chased them off to bed at about eight.

"Now what?" I asked.

"How about a game of cards?" proposed Martin.

"Suits me. What shall we play?"

"Strip poker?" suggested Karen and looking at her I couldn't be certain if she was joking or not.

"Certainly not." Mrs Mason put her foot down firmly, "There's only one card game worth playing and that's bridge. I assume you play?" I nodded. "Right then, you can be my partner."

When I said I could play I meant I knew how to play, but I soon realised that I was far below the standard of the other three and kept making silly mistakes, not disastrous, but I could see that Mrs Mason was getting a bit frustrated with me. In the end we lost badly and decided to call it a night.

In truth, I wasn't really looking forward to going to bed, yes I was tired and ready, but deep down I was a little worried about sharing the room with a female who I didn't really know at all, and more to the point, was a little scared of.

We bade good night to our colleagues as they went into their room and I took a deep breath and opened our door. Immediately Mrs Mason took charge, "Right, you go in the bathroom first, I suggest we change in there. When you've finished I shall go in and then we go straight to bed. OK?" I felt like saluting with a smart "Yes Ma'am." but probably sensibly, just nodded and picking up my night clothes, went in and closed the door behind me.

I did the necessaries and pulled my tee shirt on, leaving my boxers in place. Before I opened the door again I checked to ensure my cock hadn't slipped out of the fly as it was prone to do, imagining how embarrassing that would be.

When I emerged Mrs Mason was waiting impatiently and slid past me, closing and locking the door. Honestly, did she really expect to just to barge in after her? The thought brought a wry grin to my face, imagining her having a pee, or brushing her teeth topless, her breasts swinging from side to side. I found my hand descending towards my cock and stopped it, thrusting such fantasies away before they started to have an impact on my still soft penis.

Mrs Mason had turned off the main lights and switched on the bedside light, it cast a dim glow through the room, plenty for me to see to pull back the covers and slip into bed. It was quite comfortable, a little larger than a standard single and I lay there waiting for her to come out. The door opened and she stood in the doorway, dressed in a knee length nightdress. It was held up by narrow shoulder straps and had a V-neck, in which I could see the tops of her breasts.

What caught my attention however was the bright light from the bathroom, making the garment almost see though. For just a moment I could see the gap between her thighs, right up to her crotch and my cock twitched at the thought, then the light was extinguished and she stepped into the room.

I looked up at her and saw her breasts wobbling unfettered under the nightie, two small points very visible. She caught my gaze, "They're just breasts Mr Manning, every woman has them and their only true function is to feed babies. I really don't see what men find so captivating about them." I could have told her, but thought better of it and just apologised for staring.

She started to put her clothes away and I saw that she was discarding a pair of panties, which....at this point my mind went into overdrive,... meant that what I'd seen backlit was actually her pussy. My cock lurched and started to swell and my hand went to it, squeezing gently. I mustn't, I told myself.

She got into bed and turned out the light. "Good night Mr Manning, sleep well."

"And you Mrs Mason." I turned onto my side, my hand just gently stroking my cock. I could hear the soft rustling of her bedclothes as she got comfortable, then all was quiet. Was I making any noise? I didn't think so, but I couldn't be certain and very reluctantly I released my cock and focussed on going to sleep, trying to push those images of her out of my mind.

I slept fitfully, unaccustomed to the bed, periods of what seemed like deep sleep interspersed with wakefulness. I heard a lot of rustling coming from her bed and some deep sighs and wondered how she was sleeping. At some point she got up and went into the bathroom, I lay there and listened to the sound of her pee splashing softly into the toilet and had to force myself not to stroke my cock again. If it was going to be the same for the rest of the week, I was going to be in some trouble.

I must have drifted off as my phone alarm shrilled and I turned over and switched it off. Mrs Mason was lying there looking at me and I smiled at her. "Good morning Mrs Mason, did you sleep well."

"No, not at all well I'm afraid to say."

"Oh, I hope I didn't snore or... anything too much."

"Not, not at all, just out of my routine I think. Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?" I acquiesced and watched as she rolled out of bed, facing away from me and walked into the bathroom as I admired her bum. There was no repeat of the transparency of her nightie to my disappointment, but my hand went to my morning wood and held it. I just about had time I thought as my hand followed its accustomed routine, stroking along the length and I began to experience those familiar feelings running through me.

Normally I'd cum into some tissues, and looked around me. There were none. I couldn't just cum all over myself, it would be just too obvious and there really wasn't anything I could conceivably use to catch my ejaculation. I heard the shower go on and visualised that body under it, soapy water sluicing round her breasts, and I felt a surge in me. What on earth was I going to do?

Mind overcame matter and I pulled my hand away from my cock and tried to think of something else, but kept returning to Mrs Mason in the shower. The water stopped and I lay there, thinking about her hands running over her body, drying round her breasts and between her legs and I groaned in frustration at my inability to give myself the release my body was crying out for.

Suddenly the door opened and she came out, a towel wrapped tightly round herself. "OK, Mr Manning, your turn, take your time while I get dressed." I tucked my cock back inside my boxers and got awkwardly out of bed, trying desperately to hide the tent in my shorts from her. I presumed I succeeded and closed the bathroom door behind me.

I had my usual shit, shave and shower and only then realised I hadn't brought any clothes in with me. I wrapped a towel round my waist and called out, "Are you decent Mrs Mason, I'm coming out."

"All clear," she replied and I opened to door to see her at the small dressing table putting her make-up on.

"I forgot to take any clothes in with me," I confessed, "I'm sure I can rely on you not to peek while I dress out here."

"Indeed so." came the response and I went over to where I'd put my clothes away. One final glance in her direction and I dropped the towel and hastily pulled some clean boxers on.

"Nice arse!" came a cry from across the room and I looked round to see her looking at me in the reflection of the mirror.

"It's just for sitting on, Mrs Mason, I really don't see why women get so excited about them."

"Touché, Mr Manning." I saw her return to her make-up.

We were due for a hike that morning and the weather was fine, so all four of us had put shorts on. I found myself walking at the back with Karen to chivvy up the stragglers. "How are you getting on with Emily?" she asked. I searched my memory for an Emily and realised she was talking about Mrs Mason. Of course I knew her name, but somehow, Mrs Mason fitted better.