Cockenheimer Rises From The Ashes

Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist

Andy finished showering, put on his second favourite tracksuit and stood in the bathroom mirror admiring himself. Yesterday evening he felt the opportunity to fuck disappear as his Mom and Alexandra left him for each others arms and now he stood facing his own reflection admiring a... man? No, he was looking into the face of god. He'd done exceptional work, his performance nothing short of a gold medal olympian. Best of all, Frankencock had performed magnificently and he'd gotten away with an entire night of fucking without getting caught. It was Cockenheimer, destroyer of women. The smile turned into a grin.

The door opened and a naked Alexandra appeared. Andy quickly checked his cock was at rest then moved his focus to the mirror to catch her eye. He grinned. Alexandra pouted and looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes... Then wrapped an arm around her boobs and shuffled to the bathroom sink. She picked up his (HIS) toothbrush and applied his toothpaste. She then shoved it into her mouth and stood next to him at the sink, and proceeded to brush her teeth. Andy continued his best grin facing her.

Alexandra swapped hands with the toothbrush and wrapped her other arm around her breasts. While still brushing her teeth, she gave him some side-eye. Andy tried to read her expression. It wasn't gratitude, nor joy or even happiness. It wasn't sad or anything like that. It was worse still. Ambivalence. She didn't look directly at him as she brushed her teeth. Just side-eye. Perhaps a little pouty? It was hard to tell but damn she looked cute, with her messy bed hair and cute dimples. Andy wanted to hug her and tell her how much he loved her, or something. Maybe not exactly that.

As Andy's high-wattage grin began to fade, his Mom appeared at the door, naked (like that was somehow the new normal) and groaned, shielding her face from the overhead neon light. She stepped into the shower and groaned. The water went on. She groaned. Andy stared at the closed shower curtain then turned to Alexandra who was still giving him side-eye as she brushed her teeth, one arm wrapped around her boobs to hide them.

Andy's grin started to fade. Alexandra leaned forward and made a gentle papping sound as the toothpaste met the sink. She stood, now facing Andy. Andy faced her, and looked down. She was still pouting but now had both arms around her boobs. This was confusing, because she was completely naked. The only sound was the shower. She raised an eyebrow. Seconds turned into eternity. Her expression didn't change. Pouty. Beautiful. Confusing. Nonplussed.

"I'll, erm, aye, arrum... load the car."

As he left the bathroom, the door closed behind him. He turned in time to watch Alexandra step behind the shower curtain via the reflection in the glass window above the bathroom door. His stomach felt sick as he realised it wasn't him in the shower, but Mom. That nebulous feeling of discomfort turned to disgust; excluded from them and exclusion by his own disfigurement.

Andy didn't know where to start with the debris around the bedroom, so instead went outside to check on the truck and its precious cargo. The truck was covered in morning dew (which looked amazing) and the back was still secure with his bike and gear safely stowed. The cold air felt amazing on his skin. Andy felt alive, like truly, spectacularly, amazingly alive. The cold air gave him clarity to reflect on his night. He'd fucked Alexandra. That made him smile. He'd also fucked his own Mom. He tried to smile, but that wasn't his first emotion. In fact it was almost impossible to find a single emotion in the sea of turbulent feelings. He tried to rationalise - 'What the fuck have I done?' but instead of feelings his mind went to actions, because the latter was far easier to process than the former.

Last night was his finest sexual experience by far. He'd learned how to apply maximum physical attack to delay his orgasm, and successfully hidden his disfigurement. Even his fantasies weren't as intense as the reality of last night. Two women at the same time. Anal sex. He watched his Mom go down on Alexandra. He'd made them both orgasm over and over again. He'd done that to them. Him! They'd touched each other in ways that Andy couldn't comprehend; two women had fucked each other and still decided that they'd include him in their sexual adventures. He'd fucked his own Mom. The sound she made when he penetrated her. It was... haunting? Amazing? Terrifying? No, it's his physique, his energy, his power. It wasn't normal, or was it? His Mom used the word 'fuck' like... it was meant to be used. She said it over and over. Alexandra said it too. A lot.

The door to the motel opened.

"Andy, my darling, come back inside."

Andy jumped when Alexandra purred. He turned to see her in a black dress with pretty coloured flowers over it and his moment of reflection evaporated in the early morning sun.

He would go where he was told, mused Alexandra. As Andy approached the door she tip-toed and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and the other around the base of his back. So tall. She looked into his eyes with sexual intent and pressed her body into his then kissed him full on the lips. She anticipated his response, and arched her back as he folded into her body. Their tongues played together and she felt the imperceptible yet insistent crush of his groin into her hips.

"Thank-you, my darling."

She smiled, lips full and now dark red. She pulled the side of his face into her lips and with a gentle breath of warm air into his ear, and whispered.

"Now thank your mother for me, yes?"

The breath of air in his ear gave him goosebumps. His mother stood by the bed. She looked nervous. Alexandra released him. He stepped into the dark.

Alex watched him approach his mother with rapt intensity. Heather wasn't looking directly towards Andy. His head dropped. She watched their arms open and then embrace each other, as mother and son should do.

Alex stepped back into the room. She needed this to be more than a comforting hug so as mother and son embraced, she stood next to both of them and wrapped one arm around Heather and the other around Andy. She kissed Heather on the cheek, then pulled Andy down a little and kissed him gently on the lips. As they broke, she embraced them both tighter and kissed Heather full on the lips, pushing her tongue into her mouth. He needed to watch and see this. Heather let out a gentle groan.

Alex pulled back and looked at Andy with a quizzical look. Andy looked down at his Mom and kissed her on the lips.

"Yes my darling, show her how grateful you are."

It was a little nudge.

She felt Heather's arm fold around her back and all three bodies pressed closer. She was close enough to see Heather's jaw soften and lips pout. Andy's shoulders dropped and his head tilted in. Alex kissed Heather then Andy on the cheek, close enough to linger on the corner of their mouths.

As Alex prepared to give them both a nudge into darkness, she paused. Heather pushed her lips into her son's mouth. She watched intently, as he resisted then acquiesced. Mother kissed son and son kissed back. Not of affection, not of kindness, but a slow, unwinding passion. Alex was close enough to watch them share their saliva with their tongues and it was as intense as anything she'd ever seen or experienced with them.

'I'm such a fucking slut' thought Heather. She kissed Andy with a gentle pout then pressed in firmer. There was some reticence from him for a moment then he pursed his lips and pressed back.

'Why am I like this?' Heather opened her mouth a little and a moment later Andy did the same. A groan unconsciously and unbidden left her throat.

'Fuck, no, no, no... stop, please stop'

Heather's mind screamed to bring this shameful nonsense to a stop, but her unbidden groan gave Andy permission, and he pressed his lips firmly to hers. She flicked her tongue out. Her tongue met his.

'Why am I like this?'

At least she wasn't alone. At least she had Alex to reassure her that this was normal; that this was okay for her to do. It felt different in the light of morning, with real life all around them.

She kissed him. Her kiss brought with it her hunger for more. He kissed back with the same passion, the same hunger. Alex held onto Heather, close enough she could feel her breath against her cheek. It felt like she wanted to share the experience between mother and son, son and mother, and so find reason and meaning in their actions.

Heather didn't mean to, but they stopped kissing. Her eyes bright with sexual arousal caught Alex who somehow glowed positivity and reassurance back at her. It was the same feeling she took from Alex when they looked at each other on the podium yesterday when she told her that she'd fucked her own son. Compassion and understanding. No judgement, just kindness tipped with her own unique sexual energy.

Alex looked at Andy then to Heather. It was Heather who experienced a crushing sense of consequence, not Andy. His morality would be set by both women in his life. She pondered how long that might last; that Andy's direction in life would be controlled by both of them. She adored him, but Heather's eyes connected with her own, and in that moment she realised if she managed them both well enough, then Heather would be hers.

Where Heather could only see a barrel-view of the far-reaching consequences of an affair with her own son, Alexandra viewed their needs as a CFO of a rapidly expanding insurance company. She thought of it as a strategic, long-term perspective that aligned her personal goals with that of... her first thought went to partners but quickly pivoted to lovers. She pondered how she felt about Heather being a lover a moment longer. Companion? Perhaps as a partner was closer to her projected outcome. Work came unbidden into her mind, and she realised that there was work to do in order to make this happen.

"We should go, yes? Yes."

And with that the bubble burst. Andy's face turned down and Heather's brow ruffled with thoughts of returning home. Alex reminded them they would both experience some short-term pain for long-term gain. She continued to talk to both of them about tentative plans about what was going to happen next but she couldn't comprehend the enormity of what Heather and Andy were experiencing; particularly Heather would knew she was going to have to lie like she'd never had to lie before and at some point - as it always did - truth will out. How could she hide the bite marks on her breasts? Could she say it was Alex? Would Alex back her? Yes, she would. The lie worked. What had she missed? There's always something. Truth will out.

The black Mercedes pulled away leaving Heather and Andy waving at the empty car park on a Sunday morning. Cars passed them. Occasionally a bird would chirp. The sun rose; it was getting warmer.

"We should drive back." muttered Heather to herself. They got into the car for another sombre return journey home. Heather flipped her phone off silent. Lots of missed calls but nothing from Stan, her husband. Husband. She'd cheated on him with his own son. Fuck. She'd face divorce, humiliation and probably jail. Fuck.

Her sense of foreshadowing got worse and worse as they got nearer and nearer home. As the wheels rolled around the corner of their street, Heather was practically having a heart attack. She wanted reassurance from Andy who, at best, was stoic, and at worst, was in total denial heading towards catatonic.

Worst was yet to come. As they neared their driveway, she noticed a patrol car parked in front of their house. Andy looked at his mother in despair, who'd crumbled. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. The car eased into the drive. Curtains twitch. Neighbours are out standing in the street, arms folded, in quiet judgement.

Two female officers exit their car and ambled up the drive.

"Wait here please Andy, I'll speak to them and make arrangements."

Andy is in utter shock. Mouth open, eyes wide. Terrified. Heather had done her best to plan ahead. She'd need to leave her wedding ring and watch on the bedside table. She would ask nicely to be allowed to change into something more demure than branded sportswear. Alex was going to find out. She'd be ruined too. Everything that she'd done for them would be burned and utterly destroyed.

Heather tried her best to stand tall but tears rolled down her cheeks, shoulders shrug, head hung.

"Mrs Reilly?" Officer Brady is quiet, almost confidential.

"May we talk to you inside? Officer Deko will keep Andy company. Do you have your keys?"

Heather looks around. Her husband is probably already talking with detectives; his car parked at the station discussing charges.

The door opens to semi-darkness. Strange. Heather automatically goes into housewife mode and starts tidying up plates and opening curtains.

Officer Brady sits on the sofa.

"May I call you Heather?"

Heather nods, eyes wide.

"Heather, please sit with me."

"What's wrong?"

Something is wrong. Heather can't put her finger on it, but whatever it is, it's worse than what she imagined. She's not been arrested. She's not been taken away in handcuffs, with her son watching. Why was the house in such a mess?

"Heather, last night Stanley Reilly was involved in a road traffic accident."

Officer Brady pauses to let the news sink in, but is already aware that Heather realised something is wrong.

Heather is ironically sideswiped. This was the opposite of what she expected, leaving her consumed by the turmoil of her own confused emotions.

"He's on life support, but expected to pull through."

The officer again pauses to relay more news. How could this get any worse?

"However, there was another person in the car with him, and this person died at the scene. A blood toxicology test was done on your husband while receiving emergency surgery, and was found to be three times over the legal limit for alcohol and had cocaine in his bloodstream."

Heather freezes. Tears seem to stop half way down her cheeks. Her brain goes numb.

"Heather, I know this is difficult for you, but I need to ask you some questions to gather some evidence."

Heather's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The officer assumes this is acknowledgement, and starts to speak.

"Can you confirm your full name is Heather Reilly?"

Heather again tries to speak, but words fail to form. She nods.

"I see that you are confirming this to be true."

She pauses again.

"Can you confirm that your husband is Stanley Reilly?"

The officer goes through some basic information about her husband, her family, and their address. As she wraps up the opening statement, she concludes.

"I saw your son, Andy, on the news last night. He won another Iron Man competition. I guess he's going to be quite the competitor when this is all over."

Officer Brady smiled at Heather.

Heather looked at the clock over in the kitchen. It was lunchtime. Andy would be hungry. She smiled back.

And now the officer frowned. Heather subconsciously frowned back.

"Heather, the person in the car was called 'Jewel'. Can you confirm with me of any acquaintance you might have with a person called Jessica 'Jewel' Wesley?"

"Who?" Stuttered Heather, and reflecting about who she was talking to, repeated "Sorry officer, who is Jewel?"

Officer Brady spoke.

"I am confirming that you do not know the passenger in the car, a person called Jewel."

She paused, and placed her hands on Heather's.

"Heather, we believe that your husband went to a bar last night around 8pm where he met a prostitute called Jewel. They returned here around 10pm. From our reports both were already intoxicated. Your husband left your home around 3am with Jewel, and we assume to drive her back to her place, when the car they were driving in left the road. The passenger in the car died at the scene, and your husband was transferred to the state hospital. He's been placed in an induced coma as a precaution."

Officer Brady flipped back a few pages in her notebook.

"Physically, he's suffered a blow to the head, a neck injury, broken ribs, some internal bleeding and a broken wrist."

She continued.

"He's going to be out of it for a day or so, and the hospital tried to call you since his admission. I understand that you've been away with your son at an Iron Man competition for the weekend?"

Officer Brady tried another smile to bring the news back to something more positive.

"He's quite the kid, you must be really proud of him."

Both sat there in silence. Heather couldn't find words. As much as she tried to find reasons for what had happened, she couldn't. She'd gone from accepting her arrest to finding out... what? What had the officer just said?

The door opens and Officer Deko walks in with Andy, who rushes to his mother and wraps his arms around her.

Moments later there's a knock on the door. Trust their neighbours to try and get in on their time of grief. There's some muttering and Officer Deko asks Heather if she wants to speak to Mary from next door. Heather doesn't want to speak to anyone except Alex, but doesn't have the courage to say.

Andy asks for the door to be closed. More muttering and the neighbour leaves. Both officers walk around the house, both upstairs and downstairs. They ask Heather to join them as they make another sweep. There's used condoms on the bedroom floor. A mirror with white powder is in the bathroom. Heather's expensive lingerie is on the bed. It's been stained. The bed has dried white marks in the middle.

Both officers knew the scene and what happened next. Heather crumbled, lost to a sea of despair, her life ruined along with her lingerie. She overheard Officer Brady whisper 'she probably made him wear it, too'.

Everything goes into an evidence bag and the evidence bags go into the patrol car. Outside, hands go to mouths and gasps are stifled.

The patrol car had left around 2pm. Now it was getting dark outside. Andy put the lights on. Heather hadn't moved from the sofa. There's another knock at the door. Andy answers. The door closes.

"My love, I am here for you, yes?"

Alex sits next to Heather, and wraps her arm around her. Heather doesn't hear what she says, but feels herself being gently guided from the sofa, through the lounge to the front door, and out into the cold evening air. The front door closes. She doesn't have her front door key. How will she get back home? The leather seat of the Mercedes is warm, and she's wrapped in the smell of expensive leather. The door opens and she is vaguely aware of sitting down in an expensive kitchen with a large brown liquid in a heavy glass cup with a chunk of ice almost the size of the glass. She's fascinated with the light playing off the cube of ice as it slowly, slowly, slowly spins around.

Heather made it clear she would never sleep in that bed again. Burn it, with the bedding. Andy would be hungry. She couldn't sleep in that room, either. She wanted a shower. And a bath. She couldn't wear her clothes. How could she even return back to that house? How could he do this to her? He better die from his injuries too! He still had to face her wrath! Who's home was it anyway? How would they even be able to talk to each other? What would she do? Her life in tatters, home ruined, no place to live and no way to look after her son...

After two days Heather left the guest room in Alex's home. They'd been visited by two detectives, then the same two officers, and finally Whiteleaf's lawyers. Andy hadn't left his mother during that time. Heather had worn a fluffy white robe exclusively for the rest of the week. She didn't want to see anyone, and then didn't want to be alone. She knew she couldn't leave the house, but it wasn't her house and so took Andy's pickup and drove around and around until she almost ran out of fuel. She returned to find two determined and concerned people waiting at the front door. She smiled.