A Pair of Lost Socks

"Are you sure you didn't check out a woollen sock to keep your feet warm in bed at night over the last few years? Or were you looking at a dirty, stinking footy boot instead?"

"You're the dirty, stinking footy boot," she laughed. "But no, I've never felt interested in anyone else, but I'd be lying if others weren't interested in me."

"They'd be stupid socks not to be interested in pairing up with ya," he said, smiling. "I mean, look at ya, got a great soul, even if ya are a bit toey sometimes, but truth is, you could heal a broken heart..."

"You need to put a sock in it, Max," she said, laughing some more. "Or I'll cuff you!"

"Hey, don't hem me in, I've cottoned on to you, you can't pull the wool over my eyes."

"Stop it," she said with a derisive snort, and he chuckled. She sighed, and said, "Anyway, I'm a reclusive sock, as you know. Introverted and reclusive, while you're...gregarious and loud and...can't sit still for five seconds!"

"I'm not so gregarious or loud anymore..."

"Still can't sit still to save your life..."

"But I haven't moved in hours..."

"And you're still a smart arse."

"And you're still the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on," he whispered.

"Oh, sure, Max," Yvonne snorted. "If I'd known about your reputation before I met you..."

"Hey, you know there was the Max before Vonnie you'd heard all about, and then Max after Vonnie, who you knew. I never looked at another girl again once you hooked me."

"So many women I found out you'd slept with..."

"Past tense, another life time before you came along."

"Yep, so many years ago. And I'm not a naïve girl anymore, I'm fifty-five!"

"And still the most beautiful woman ever! It's true and I've thought it from the moment I first laid eyes on ya till right now, when we turned into a pair of un-lost socks."

She laughed, a genuinely happy laugh form the heart; a laugh unlike any he'd heard since they were a happy married couple in their little three-bedroom weather-board house in the rough northern suburbs of Hobart, raising three young children, having the times of their lives. He felt her laughing convulsions against his chest as he pulled her close, and he smiled greatly; a smile unlike any he'd smiled since they were a happily married couple, in the days before their happy lives unravelled.

Soon she settled, still sniggering but calm, and she said, "I love you, Maxie Coughlan. Even if you're a big hairy, stinky sock."

"Hey, I'm a footy boot, and I shaved, remember."

Yvonne chuckled again. "Yeah, you're a stinky football boot, all right."

"Wait, if we're a matching pair, and I'm a stinky footy boot, are you a dirty, stinking footy boot too then?" She laughed even more, and Max smiled, holding her against him, and kissed her head again too, and he said, "Your laughter is like magic."

In the dark she raised her head off his chest, and whispered, "You're the one here who's like magic..."

"I love you, Yvonne Bell."

"It's Vonnie Coughlan to you, mister. My friends still call me Vonnie and I'm still married and still use my married name."

"Heather must think you're so old fashioned."

"I don't care what Heather thinks," she said, and then kissed him by surprised, lips pressing hard on lips, and he kissed her back, holding her against him. He'd not kissed anyone this way since he'd last kissed her this way, sometime back when they'd shared the trials and tribulations of married life, raising their little family, years back in the past, when they were happy. Back then they were a pair, a team, before their love became damaged in the great tumbling washing machine of life. Before his accident and his subsequent depression, and before the loss of their first-born child, their adult son.

Maybe the pain was partly healed by time, and they kissed, and their kissing felt good, wonderful, loving, sensual. Max became hard, and he couldn't even remember the last time his cock was erect beyond the odd morning wood, couldn't even remember the last time he'd thought of sex as more than a pleasant memory in the distant past. But his cock was hard in his boxers, and Yvonne felt it too, because she couldn't avoid feeling him, his stiffness pushing against her where she leant on him.

She broke their kiss and whispered, "Life is strange, isn't it?"

"Yeah, here I was, lying in bed trying to sleep, and now, you're here in my arms...telling me I'm a sock."

"A sock with a hard cock," she giggled, and he could barely make out her face right in front of his, but she found his lips again with hers, soft, moist, loving. He held her, not daring to make a wrong move, enjoying their intimacy, thoughts of a younger Yvonne drifting through his mind, where they shared a bed and one another for twenty years, in what felt like another lifetime.

She tasted sweet, like minty toothpaste, and he worried he tasted foul despite brushing before bed, but she tasted him more, their mouths opening together, tongues gently touching, so he must taste all right, where she now began to press her mouth hard on his, his tongue hard against hers, embracing, like their bodies now did too when she lifted her leg over, mounting him.

Suddenly it was like their first time together, back when Max was a horny and very sexually experienced twenty-one year-old, and Yvonne was a mostly sexually naïve nineteen year-old who'd not even allowed him more than a quick peck until after their third date, and for the first time in his life he'd waited for someone rather than walk away, anxious not to make the wrong move, letting her take all the time she needed, which wasn't long because on their fifth or maybe sixth date she'd acted with an impulsive rush, a rush which came upon her now, and he didn't miss a beat, both scrambling at one another's clothes, Yvonne removing his singlet and exploring his chest and belly with little kisses of love and affection.

Yvonne was tall and lithe, and she bent over, kissing him, her groin grinding on his stiffness, and Max reached up and lifted her loose-fitting pyjama top, pulling it up her body, and she let him, his fingers caressing her skin.

She sat up, and in the dark his fingers explored her with the lightest touch, moving along once familiar paths he'd not travelled for way too many years, her skin not so smooth as it once was, her curvy little teardrops still firm handfuls, but not so perky either, but all of her was still beautiful and sexy and perfect to his fingertips. And to his lips and tongue, kissing her, finding one of her lovely nipples poking outwards, and then the other with his fingers, and she gasped, her head tilted back, her hand now reaching down between their bodies, tugging on his boxers.

He too reached for her pyjama bottoms, and then they were naked, his hand stroking up and down her thigh, fingers on her inner thigh, gently brushing her skin with the softest touch, towards her, finding her, feeling her, coarse hair and growing moistness.

"Oh, Max," she gasped, letting him feel her, his fingers sliding over her pussy lips, her clit, his touch gentle and soft, then harder, little circles, and she gasped again. "Oh, wow, you certainly haven't forgotten."

In the darkness he smiled, stimulating Yvonne, listening to her breaths of pleasure, feeling her move over him, her knees at his sides, his fingers wet with her and her sex-scent filling his nose. She sunk down, her bum cheeks knocking his cock, and like she only now remembered his hardness, she reached down, caressed his hand, pulling it from her, then reached between them, taking the tip of his penis gently between her fingers, and she shuffled back a little, her leg caressing his stump, then she sat further back, leaning forward a little, and he felt his tip touch her pubic hair, moisture and then skin, her entrance where she held him for a moment, her fingers moving his swollen fat glans against her, coating him with her nectar, moving him into her, slowly, his hands on her hips now, and she slowly, ever so slowly, sunk onto him, his cock inside her, Yvonne surrounding Max, a wonderful feeling of togetherness, their bodies joined again, and their hearts beating as one, like they'd long ago belonged.

"I love you, Von," he whispered, his hands roaming her thighs and hips, and her buttocks, with soft, swirling caresses, his fat hardness snuggly joined with her.

"Oh, Maxie, my darling," she whispered, "This was not part of my plan...but I do love you too."

He smiled, though he could only see her silhouetted as a darker shape hovering over him in the darkness, where they were one again, and he knew her body as he knew his own, feeling her, caressing her, kissing her now, and moving with her.

Their pleasure grew, where he pushed up and she pushed down, their breaths deepening, her hands on his biceps then pectorals, and then they were holding one another, embracing.

"Roll me over," she whispered, and they did, Max slipping from Yvonne in the process, his cock slick with her, leaving a trail of wetness on the sheets, but in no time they were joined again, embracing, his face over hers, sweet and loving kisses, breathy whispers, their bodies moving as one, chests pressing together encasing hearts beating in time, barely centimetres apart, arms holding each other tightly, his hands cradling her head, feeling her soft hair between his fingers.

Max felt their build up; both his and hers, the sensations of love and lovemaking, Yvonne's breaths increasing, gasps between kisses, lips still finding each other, but now more content to brush lightly rather than forceful sucking, breathing into each other, and then she moaned.

"Oh, Max, this is...this is...us...you and me, like we used to be..."

"Von, my beauty," he whispered, "My beautiful angel, my sweet and loving angel...you fit me like a lost sock."

She giggled, then moaned with gasping pleasure. "Oh, you fill me like a...big, fucking, fat, cock!"

He thrust into her, his one knee pushing on the mattress for traction, her legs increasingly tight around him, and her arms too, and he gasped too, kissing her lightly, lips, cheek, sucking on her earlobe, whispering, "You've always been the most beautiful woman to me."

"Oh, Max, feels wonderful, amazing...," she gasped, holding him tighter and tighter, their thrusting increasing, together, him and her burning with pleasure and love.

Then they were there, where all of a sudden Yvonne made an unintentional squeak, and she went ridged, the love inside her pulsating tremors, him reaching maximum pressure overload, and he whispered directly into her ear, "I love you, Vonnie," and he came too, his cock pumping his juicy load into her while she trembled with wonderful pleasure, their bodies writhing and jerking together, enjoying one another, sharing lovingly, body and soul fused into one.

He finished first, but she took a while, still holding one another tight, and they gradually relaxed their love-grip, silently breathing, their lips sharing little kisses, then a couple of longer, lingering kisses too.

"So," she whispered, "I'll take it you're staying then?"

He grinned in the darkness, their lips barely centimetres apart. "Hmm, I'd be a mug to say no...but..."

He paused, saying no more, and Yvonne waited a moment, then said, "Oh, Max, you haven't changed much at all!"

"I think you know the answer, Von. Of course I accept your offer. I might be a fool but I'm not a mug!"

"Nope, you're a stinky, dirty, lost sock, who's come out cleaner in the wash."

He laughed and she kissed him and he could feel her lips were smiling against his own, as his were smiling against hers. Eventually they rolled over, unjoining their bodies, his cock fat and wet with their love, now deflating, but not their hearts which were joined and full and beating with love. And they snuggled, where Yvonne lay her head on his now-sweaty chest again, and Max pulled her into him and kissed her head, and soon he pulled the blankets up and they fell asleep in one another's arms to the sound of the wind outside, blowing through the leaves.

~0~

Filtered sunlight greeted Max through the window with its cheap frilly curtain, and birds outside chortled and twittered, a crow somewhere close cawing, and he looked to Yvonne's sleeping form beside him, only her head sticking out of the covers, her hair across her face and pillow. He smiled and then King came into the room, claws pattering on the floor, watching him from near the bedside table, and so Max hopped out to start the day, strapping on his leg.

"Leaving so soon?" Yvonne whispered without opening her eyes.

"Gotta feed the dog," he said, giving her a smile.

"Old Max is back," she said, smiling now. "Which is a good thing."

"I hope so," he said. "Like they say, if the sock fits..."

"If the shoe fits."

"We weren't talking about shoes last night...unless you mean stinky footy boots."

"Stop it," she said, but with a grin, "Or I'll give you the boot."

"Not again!" But they laughed.

Heather was on the deck in her black active wear leggings and pink top, sitting in a side bend stretch, when King bounded up to her, followed closely by Yvonne and Max. "You two go for an early walk or something?"

"Nah," Max said, stretching his arms wide, then wrapping one around Yvonne's shoulder. "We only just woke up."

Heather gave a confused look, eyebrows raised, then it must've clicked and her mouth opened wide. "What, wait...you two...?"

Max and Yvonne laughed, and Yvonne said, "You had breaky yet, sweetheart? If not, I'm gonna make something yummy because I have such an appetite this morning!"

Max smiled, pulling Yvonne into him, kissing her above the ear and said, "How about I make something yummy."

"Ah, yes," she said, "Maxie is definitely back in the game. Bacon and eggs, breakfast of champions, you used to say."

They walked through the door, Jamieson meowing voraciously, King watching him through the glass, and Yvonne telling them both, "I'll get you two something yummy each in a moment."

Max entered the kitchen, stood at the sink and washed his hands, looking at Heather out the window, where she'd stopped her morning yoga and simply stood there with the most incredulous look upon her face. He smiled and Heather began to laugh, then she smiled and gave Max two thumbs up.

~0~

June, 2020

"Yes, best day ever!" Heather yelled, dancing a little jig in front of her mother's television as the news presenters discussed the recently announced further easing of lockdown restrictions. Flossing her arms back and forth, she said in a sing-song voice, "Tim's coming to take me away, oh yeah, so good..."

Yvonne laughed, sitting at the dining table where she was three-quarters through a two-thousand piece jigsaw of a European castle taking up the entire space, and Max smiled before sipping his tea, and they laughed again as Heather carefully sat back into the single couch between the warm slow combustion heater and television, her hands on her belly, and she said, "Well, I've had enough exercise for one day."

"You still have another two months, sweetie," Yvonne said with a smile.

"She can come out right now if she likes." Heather then glanced down at her swollen belly. "You hear that in there, young lady?"

Yvonne chuckled. "What makes you think she's going to listen to anything you say?"

"Don't wish her to come early, love, she'll come when she's ready," Max said, earning glaring stares from both Yvonne and Heather. He looked to them and said, "Well, she will."

Mother and daughter both shared a look, then Yvonne said, "Your father was always giving me little hints and advice each time I was pregnant, like he thought he knew what I was going through."

Heather shook her head and frowned. "Men, always mansplaining everything, even pregnancy."

Max shrugged his shoulders, wondering what he'd done wrong now, and then Heather and Yvonne both broke into laughter. "I'm kidding, Dad. You're very supportive."

"If he's anything," Yvonne said, "Your father was always supportive, at least most of the time."

"He's good like that," Heather replied with a nod.

Yvonne stood, caressing Max's shoulder as she walked past him. "Speaking of supportive, Heather has written a list of things for us to buy for lunch, which we need to get before Tim's arrival. I'll need your help in town, Max."

Heather stayed home while Yvonne and Max took the Jimny to town, Max reading the shopping list as they bumped along the highway. Above the road noise and radio, Yvonne said, "Gee, look at how many cars are on the road today. It's like everyone's been let out of the asylum!"

"First taste of freedom in months and everyone's hittin' the coast." He paused then said, "How come Tim's driving up here, anyway? Are he and Heather going to drive back in the separate cars? Strange..."

Yvonne smiled. "Tim might be getting a lift."

"You're being cryptic," Max said. He held up the shopping list, then continued, "Getting a lift with who? Someone who's a big eater with all this extra meat and salad stuff here?"

"Heather's cravings," Yvonne said, as if it explained everything. "She could probably eat a horse right now. Or a whale. A big one. Don't you remember how I was?"

"You wanted cheese. Especially all the cheeses you weren't supposed to eat. And cheese cake."

"How good is cheese cake!" she said with excitement. "We should get one. And then there was your mother's lemon meringue pies. Hmmmmmm, delicious!"

"Nice change of topic, Von. I reckon it's your brother. No one else would need this much meat, not even Heather and her cravings, and me and Tim!"

Yvonne smiled and kept her eyes on the road. "Sometimes you don't miss a trick."

They turned off the highway into the little town, parking near the supermarket. Max gestured at the row of parked cars. "It's packed today, and there's yer cobber's Landcruiser in the middle. Like the bloke doesn't go home."

"Or wash his car. Ian's probably come to greet all the people who're dropping in now they can drive around a bit, giving them a cheery piece of his mind."

"Maybe he's here to see you," Max chuckled. "Seems to each time we're in town, he is too, so I reckon he has a thing for ya."

Yvonne laughed. "It's young Archie down the post office you have to worry about, not Ian."

"What, the skinny guy you work with?" Again, Yvonne laughed, then winked at Max, and he grinned back, and said, "Poor kid looks like he's barely out of school! He wouldn't know what to do with ya!"

"Didn't stop him asking me to dinner a couple of times," she said with a laugh, linking her arm through Max's. "I think he's looking for a cougar. But don't you worry, he appears to have lost interest since he's seen my big, burly husband."

"And here I was startin' ta think maybe I needed to have a little chat with the poor bloke."

"What the lad needs," Yvonne said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Is advice on how to talk to women. Kid suggested I could give him lessons as a pretext to dinner."

"I s'pose I should have a chat with him," Max said with a grin, "Give him some pointers."

Yvonne chuckled. "Teach him about striding across carparks to random girls wanting to mind their own business?"

"I have a one-hundred percent strike rate with that technique."

"Might not cut it with the girls of today."

"Girls today have nothing on you, eh, Vonnie?"

"Yeah, they're way more assertive. Can you imagine some bloke trying to get Heather's attention in the same way you got mine?"

"Most blokes of today wouldn't have what it takes to even approach Heather. That's why I like Tim so much, the fella's clearly quality."

They both laughed and entered the store, buying up supplies. It was in the cosmetics aisle where Max was looking for shaving cream when Ian ran into them, wearing his ubiquitous plaid flannelette shirt.