Tammy

Hey, you ever see that black Dodge Ram crew cab around town with the big ol’ pink cursive window sticker across the back? “Spoiled roughneck wife?”

Of course you have.

That’s Tammy, by the way. She sells Plexus and wears pink camo Realtree hats.

Whenever her husband Dustin is out on a long hitch, she can usually be found down at the Roundup with her girlfriends, flirting for free drinks and male attention with her tits damn near popping outta her tube top. Bitch is a real piece of work. Piece of ass, anyway. Lol.

She can also be found on Tinder, “just looking 4 fun,” with a partially covered-up face in all of her profile pics, like that’s gonna fool anyone. Small town like this, SMH. You dumb bitch.

Anyhow, that’s how I came to hook up with her. When I saw that over-the shoulder selfie she took in front of a toothpaste-speckled bathroom mirror, tight little ass poking out…I knew who she was and I couldn’t swipe right fast enough.

I had always wanted to fuck Tammy, ever since we were in high school together and she didn’t even know my name. Even though I’d heard all the rumors about what a cock-crazy slut she was, I never knew for sure it was even on the table until I saw her on that app. Now there was some rock-solid proof that she was out to deliver on all the teasing and flirting she was so small town famous for.

Sometimes I feel bad about going over there and tearing it up while her man is out there busting his ass for weeks on end so she can sit at home on hers, but not enough to stop me from doing it. Pussy is just too good, know what I mean? Besides, I’m only borrowing it, right? I’m not trying to steal her away or anything, I’m just giving her some fill-in dick.

I guess Dustin wouldn’t see it that way, but until last night, I didn’t figure it mattered too much, because he was never gonna find out. That’s what I thought, anyway.

Ok, so we’re on the bed and she’s riding my dick, right? Tits flopping around, nipples occasionally grazing my nose; I think I hear the sound of a door slamming.

She doesn’t hear it, just keeps on riding; moaning.

“Hey. Hey, shh. Stop. Shh.”

She slows down and comes to a gradual stop like a washing machine finishing a cycle.

All I can hear is the sound of her breath and my own heartbeat thumping behind my eardrums.

“Tammy?”

She leaps off my dick, which is still hard, and scrambles to gather some clothes together.

“Get in the closet.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice; I’m already halfway there. I crouch down between a fire safe and a Smirnoff shipping box, under a bunch of hanging clothes that smell like off-brand dryer sheets and permanently embedded cigarette stink, and I shut the doors. Quietly.

Clothes.

I peer through the slats in the closet doors and see Tammy kicking my jeans, shoes and shirt under the bed and turning around as Dustin walks in.

I watch the unexpected reunion for a few moments without realizing that I’ve been holding my breath ever since I got in here.

They’re embracing. He mumbles something about why he’s home, but I don’t catch it.

I exhale as slowly and softly as I can as I watch her lie down on the bed where we’d been fucking moments earlier.

His dick is out of his pants now, and she’s sucking it like it’s really the first one she’s seen in three weeks.

They’re really going at it after a couple minutes; he’s really giving it to her from behind and then…

That song…familiar…

My fucking ringtone.

Tammy looks scared as shit, sitting against the headboard and hugging her legs like a beaten child as Dustin starts tearing the place up to find the source of the sound.

Now he’s holding my phone in his hand, looking around the room. His eyes lock onto mine, and I know, it’s over.

Oh, shit.

The closet doors nearly come off their hinges as Dustin flings them open and sees me there, naked, my dick still hard from watching them fuck.

Suddenly and painfully I’m on my feet, and the fistful of hair he grabs me by is trying it’s damnedest to separate itself from my scalp.

“You motherfucker,” he growls, throwing me against the wall.

“Dustin! Stop it! It’s not his fault!”

He glares at her. “Fuck you mean it’s not his fault? I know who this fuckin’ piece of shit is and he damn sure knows who I am. And here he is, fucking my wife!”

He grabs me by the ear, twisting it until it feels hot and red; looks me dead in the eye. “I’m gonna rip your fuckin’ dick off.”

What else can I do? I shove him as hard as I can and make a butt-naked break for it.

I don’t get far before–and I swear this is what happened–the floor starts to move and shake under my feet, like an earthquake. I fall, but I’m back up in time to raise my arms to block the punches that are surely gonna be raining down upon my face at any moment.

He’s just standing there, though. Calm. Eyes look black and dead. Blood starts to stream from them, pouring down his cheeks and onto his white tank top. He opens his mouth, reeeeeally slow. It pours out of there, too, like Hershey’s syrup.

Not blood. Oil. I can smell it.

The room shakes again, and a framed picture of Tammy and Dustin in brightly-colored ski jackets at Taos six years ago or some shit(probably)falls off the wall, shards of broken glass all over the place.

My legs are spreading apart, like I’m doing the splits, but it isn’t my legs that are moving, it’s the floor. A rapidly widening crack is spreading from one end of the room to the other, and more stuff is falling down as the shaking intensifies. I jump back to keep from falling into the steaming (Oh, yeah, did I mention there’s fuckin’ steam coming out of the ground?)chasm separating me and Dustin. Looks like something out of a nightmare, and looking back on it I’m not so sure that it wasn’t, because none of it seems real.

Time to get the fuck outta Dodge.

That was a week ago. Now, since that time, I’ve come to grips with most of it. I got caught fucking a guy’s wife. Okay. He didn’t kill me. We had a big earthquake. So what? We get those all the time, now. This one just happened to be a record-breaking one for the state(5.9, if you care), but it’s not like he caused it, with some kind of oil powers.

There’s just one little problem with all of that, though. Dustin, I found out later, had been killed on the job that morning. Harness broke and he fell to his death. Or something, IDK.

I went over there at 7:00 PM.

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