Adultery IS a Crime in Oklahoma

This story is for the April Fools 2026 contest.

The basis of the story is deception. Lot's of devious deception.

It is a twisted tale of a husband's revenge that totally, and legally, not only attains complete retribution but changes a law in the process.

Any spelling/grammar/punctuation errors are mine. Please forgive my ineffective editing.

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Oklahoma. The state best known for...  well, best known for... hmmmmm; it really isn't known for much of anything.  I apologize to my fellow Okies. Wait, let me change that: it wasn't known for anything. But it's world-famous now. Because of my wife. What she did. And the consequences of it.

My name is Josh. I was born and raised in Oklahoma. Never lived anywhere else. My abode is in the beautiful Osage hills. I grew up just outside of Bartlesville. As a kid I spent lots of time at the Woolaroc museum (Woo[ds] - la[kes]-roc[ks]) which was built as a lodge/reserve for Phillips petroleum founder Frank Phillips. It has, among other things, one of the world's largest Colt firearms collections. It also hosts a vast number of native animals, and some exotic animals.

I, and most others, would consider my wife a native exotic animal, not meaning 'animal' as an insult.  She is part Potawatomi, a tribe originally from the Northeast and  Great Lakes region before they were forcibly removed to Oklahoma. Her Native American genes are dominant, not recessive. She is stunning, reflecting her deep Native American  heritage. She has the classic lines of such: high cheekbones, strong chin, a well-defined overall body structure, shaped by a history of tribal life.

Her skin was a sensuous golden sun-basked tan, light brown. Of course she has dark eyes and long, black hair. She kept it long so she could braid it for pow-wows, which she frequently attends as a Fancy Shawl or Jingle Dress dancer.

Her breasts are more than ample. Succulent, if you catch my meaning. She, having bore a child, has large dark areolae. Her sex, her vulva, mound, is of the puffy type: protruding with small visible outer labia but hidden smaller inner lips. She has darker skin, and black stubble, surrounding her mound. The best thing is the pink of her vagina, the inside opening part that is visible. With Caucasian ladies their surrounding light skin highlights the darker inner pink tunnel. But with Tasha, and all other darker skinned women, the pink of her pussy is brilliant as a bright beacon framed by darker skin.

I only expound on her Native beauty because if any of you have ever dreamt, or desired, or fantasized about sex with a Native American woman, Tasha would fulfill that urge to the greatest extent.

She is the better looking of us two by far. She is truly beautiful. And everyone tells her so. And she eats it up.

In fact, she chases it. She won't fess up to it, but it is a fact. She always puts on  some body wash or mild perfume every time we, or just she, leaves our home. She does this to exude some attractive fragrance. Even if we are just going to the grocery store, or the dog park. I wonder: for whom is she exuding this fragrance? For me? She doesn't wear it around the house or put it on for sex. You may say I'm being paranoid. Distrustful. You may say she just wants to smell clean and fresh. And I  100% agree with that.

But I can also tell you that it is 100% true that men use her use of fragrance as their means of establishing contact with her. Males will obviously look her over then approach Tasha and say, "What is that fragrance? You smell wonderful." or, "What is that beautiful aroma? Your perfume? Tell me about it."

The Alpha males approach and engage Tasha right in my presence, as though I weren't even there. Other men just feel comfortable sparking up a conversation.  The scent was scintillating. Her tits were titillating too, but it was the aroma that gave men the opportunity to flirt. I mean, men didn't walk up to her and say, "Hey, you've got nice tits. Tell me about them." No, it's the fragrance that allows the men to initiate a conversation with her. She knew what she was doing and reveled in it.

I don't know... I  just don't smell many other women making that much effort, and when I do smell that they are olfactorily enticing, they don't respond to mens' attempted flirtations as often and as amicably as Tasha.

Let me exonerate my over-active distrust with fact: Tasha recently got caught having an affair with one of the men reacting to her purposeful ploy.

It is that affair that began the series of events that made Oklahoma world famous.

It happened at a social event held at the Woolaroc retreat. Because of its history and scenery many high dollar fund raisers are held there. Not only does Tasha spend a lot of time at Woolaroc as a representative of Native American culture,  she is socially admired and is frequently sought to attend such fundraising events as a hired social butterfly. I'm not trusting enough, or fool enough, to let her attend the paid social functions alone. My presence is always enough to dissuade any and all attempts at allowing any tomfoolery.

At least it was until one of those paid events held for a local entrepreneur requested Tasha's services. The special gentleman there that night was a semi-recluse by choice. This is because he was a celebrity.  A monied,  popular celebrity.

He was Acer Baines, a known guru or sage, a charismatic leader. He had an adamant following.

I rather disliked him because his shtick was a "holier than thou" mantra. Live your life by his god-given rules if you want joy, fulfillment, enrichment, you name it.

He dispensed wisdom to his faithful almost exclusively through his books, rallies,  and podcasts. His in-person smaller gatherings were exceedingly rare.

At this event he had a large gaggle of followers vying for his attention. He was intentionally unapproachable. That elevated his mystique. At one point he grew somewhat snubbish, evasive of the crowd.

He politely excused himself to go to the restroom. Coincidently, and it actually was mere coincidence, Tasha was en route to the ladies' restroom. As he passed her he suddenly stopped. He looked at her. There is zero doubt that he was entrapped by her fragrance. He said so.

I could see Acer come to an abrupt stop,  then ogle Tasha, then touch her elbow as his head drew near her neck. I could see him inhale, as I have seen so many other men do likewise. I  saw Tasha blush coyly and bow her head, as though she were shy.

Now this is bizarre. I  was watching them the entire time and Tasha knew it. But she unashamedly did not break from their private conversation.  As I approached she pulled out her cellphone, as did he. They, right in front of me, exchanged cellphone numbers.

Sh!t.

Without causing a stir or raising a ruckus at the party I told them both they had better not ever, ever, contact each other. They were under my scrutiny.

But Acer had charismatic control over his followers, especially ladies. His manipulative ability was overpowering. As I led Tasha from him I watched Tasha delete his number and empty her trash files.

But I couldn't demand that Acer do anything to his phone. My only defense  was that I demanded, and Tasha agreed, to allow me to access her phone anytime I desired.

I had really screwed myself. I was no techno-wizard and Tasha knew that. I don't know what Acer's technical prowess was, but it was superior to mine.

Despite my planned ultra-intrusive observations I saw nothing out of the ordinary happening over the next two weeks. I checked her phone and called to confirm her whereabouts regularly.

But what I didn't know was that Tasha and Acer had established a means to at first secretly communicate by cellphone using a cloud-based, erasable file called "Grocery items" to exchange info and more so to arrange times and places for rendezvous.

They took their time. They were keen enough to remain as nonchalant as possible. Tasha did nothing... nothing to raise my interest. I believed that since she was hit on by men so regularly and had never acted on their advances, this time was no different.

As an aside you may say "You blind, stupid, knucklehead. Of course Tasha cheated on you. A lot."  But any husband could say that about any wife: that she secretly cheated and just never got caught or confessed. All I can say is that it is fact, not supposition, that Tasha had never carried through and cheated before this.

Those previous suitors were all buffoons not worthy of anything but her temporary attention to elevate her ego.

Acer was different.  He was an unobtainable prize, desired by many women. So when he unleashed his charisma on Tasha she complied.

They lay low the first two weeks then made the opportunity to lay each other the third week. The most important thing they did was for Acer to rent, by the month, a secluded cabin at Woolaroc.  Woolaroc was near  his ample  home in the country and near my home just outside of Bartlesville. He told Woolaroc it was used as a retreat for him to have solitude and privacy away from his wife and kids. I had no idea of his arrangement there, and since Tasha spent a lot of time at Woolaroc for her own activities it flew right under my radar. They had no need for any type of electronic or telephonic contact. They left no trail to follow other than their person-to-person get togethers.

They were very discreet and once I had let my guard down they were able to meet under the guise of Tasha's regular innocent activities at Woolaroc. They had a lifetime of cheating to look forward to... if they were careful.

Additionally, I had to work full time. I didn't have the opportunity to carefully surveille them. My threat of scrutinizing proved as hollow as my head. As empty as my chances of catching them.

They probably laughed at the ease they were able to conduct their affair.

Sometimes some workers at Woolaroc would see them together. You'd think one of them would have told me, her husband, about it, but none of them did. I later was told that they didn't want to get involved.  That it wasn't their concern. Or that they assumed someone else would inform me. However I would later find out that not only were a few Woolaroc workers aware of the cheating,  they documented it several time, including recordings.

During  their second month of cheating fate caught up with them. They were so comfortable cheating that they too let their guards down. They got sloppy. It was stupid silly how it happened, and so very  predictable. I went unannounced to Woolaroc to visit Tasha. Duh. Actually this is very abnormal because I almost always have a business lunch of some sort  even if only to informally chat with coworkers.

Tasha, based on 99.999% history,  trusted that I would not ever go to Woolaroc for lunch. But one day I did.

I trusted 99.999% that Tasha would never cheat on me. But one day she did. That.001%, AKA fate, intervened.

It's not like Tasha and Acer were there frequently. The chances of catching them together was miniscule.  But on this particular day I, from a distance, saw Tasha's car at a secluded cabin. I parked far enough away, walked to their hideaway, and caught them having sex.

I did use my phone to record their adultery.

I can't explain it. I was numbed. I didn't care. She was at that instant no longer my wife. She was a filthy whore.

I gleaned a few suppositions about Acer in that situation also. He seemed impulsive: he got that cabin asap to start fucking Tasha. He was reckless if he was in a hurry. He could and did let his guard down. He wasn't some mental  super-being, he was a fallible human.

I didn't stay at their window five minutes before I quietly left.

I had caught my wife cheating. Soon Oklahoma would be famous throughout the world because of it. The fuse had been lit. Lit as in 'Lit'-erotica BTB.

I walked back to and got inside my vehicle.  I  was thinking so fast I wasn't thinking at all. I drove into and parked at the first parking lot I reached.

I thought, "What to do... What to do... and who to do what to?"

I, to this day, still can't figure out why it was Acer, the lothario, and not as much my wife, that I  wanted to punish.

That I wanted to pay for the ruin of my marriage.

My immediate thought process was that they were absolute low-life. Barely qualifying as life at all. They were a pair of paramour paramecia. Single-cell scumbags. You know how single-celled scumbags communicate? Cell-phones, of course.

No, they were worse than that. But why waste valuable time heaping insults on them. I've got revenge to plan.

Acer was going suffer. God as my witness, he will suffer. I hope he ended up indigent and hated. And worse.

I googled "cheating" and got all kinds of info. Too much info to be helpful.

While internet surfing about cheating  I "accidentally" stumbled upon some  porn sites that had a ton of different stories addressing cheating wives. It got me all horny, distracting me. I rubbed one out from all the porn excitement then got back to the matter at hand. The other matter at hand.

Those cheating wives stories were interesting to read. I was particularly engrossed in two subset areas: first, the stories about the life-altering devastation caused to the innocent husband because of his wife's infidelity. His life was crushed, his life was obliterated.  All nought to his doings. So sad. Truly. And it could really happen to any husband at any time, as it did to me.

The second subset from the universe of porn was called BTB.  Burn the Bitch, or most often, Burn the Bastard cheater.  There were all these stories about fantastic retributions against the guy doing the cheating to the wife. All kinds of wonderfully wild, gory, painful, tortuous stuff. It was great fun to read about the bastard getting his comeuppance, the jilted husband enjoying his God-ordained delivery of justice. Such BTB fares were somewhat remedial, but  fantastic. And I mean fantastic as in fantasy; removed from reality. They belong in fantasy. Fun fantasy. They were a hoot! They were fun-tastic!

Fantasy or fun... BTB was still definitely on my agenda.

As I perused deeper into my research of post-cheating actions and resolutions I  came across some interesting real-life statistics: for one thing these BTB stories were, of course, not to be taken seriously. In reality BTB is incredibly rare and almost always occurs at the time the cheating happens. The cheaters get caught together and the husband goes into a rage. In reality the wife sometimes suffers the same physical harm or death as the cheater guy due to the uncontrolled rage of the husband. Post infidelity, carefully planned and orchestrated BTB is better left to be appreciated in fiction.

This isn't the case in the porn BTB stories.

And in real life if the jilted husband does commit a crime, such as assault, the consequences are very bad for the husband. They can ruin him in multitudinous manners. I read two BTB stories about the law and assault, and they made me appreciate the true repercussions of illegal acts.

In reality the husband and wife almost always either divorce or reconcile, both either amicably or acrimoniously.

BUT FUCK REALITY! IT'S BTB FOR ME BRO!

So how could I best burn, best ruin, best destroy now and forever Acer?

And maybe not destroy myself doing it?

Well, number 1, of course I would nuke his marriage. That would be simple. But I  need to find the best way. Ruining his marriage was a certainty. "Fait accompli", a given. But I needed to do it with finesse, and as part of a greater plan.

Number 2, his lush life depends on his money. I need to ruin that. Since he has beaucoups or boocoos or however you want to spell it of bucks I'm going to make him pay. Literally pay. Hopefully become destitute. He's gonna pay pecuniarily, i.e. financially, and it's gonna hurt.

And 3, I need to ruin the flow of the money, the source of the money: his "pristine", "omniscient", image. I need to deprive him of his followers.

By this time my mind was swimming in a  maelstrom of plenteous possible solutions, but somehow they had to mesh and meld to create the BBBTB: the Big Beautiful Burn The Bastard.

As I accrued and contemplated more and more data, especially reading the cheating stories, something got my attention: one story in particular had a judge give a quotation that went something like "Assault is a crime. Cheating is not a crime." It referred the fact that assault, as in attacking the cheater guy, is illegal and therefore punishable. But adultery is not illegal. It is not a crime.

Just for kicks I  googled "Is adultery illegal in any state?"

Zounds!

Good God Almighty!

Eureka!

OMG!

F@cking unbelievable!

In our great state of Oklahoma adultery IS crime!

Oklahoma Statutes, Title 21,  O.S. § 871 --  Adultery defined.

Easy peasy!

Home run!

Done and done!

NOT!

NO, of course, things could never be that simple. Reading more on that statute it turns out that yes, it is a real law on the books, but it was a historical artifact. A dead law. It was a law that was almost never enforced or prosecuted. Almost never as in never.

Fortunately the statue applied to the corespondent,  the co-respondent, as in a divorce. And to the third party, the lothario.

The sun set. The skies grew dark again. So did my hope.

Maybe that's why none of the cheater adultery stories, especially the porn ones, either never mentioned the law or denied that adultery laws existed.

Hero to zero. Back to square one. Thanks for nothing, Oklahoma statute Title 21,  O.S. § 871.

But... No 'c'est la vie'. No 'que sera sera'. No 'live and let live' bullshit.

I was going to get my retribution,  come Hell or high water. I'll release all the Hell I can muster.

I let it stew all night. I let the info and ideas gurgitate and regurgitate (metaphorically speaking).  Then in the darkest hour of the night, a light.

I had an epiphany, a brilliant moment of clarity.

'Cogito, ergo sum': 'I think,  therefore I am'.

Here, adapted to: "Cogito,  ergo consilium habeo': I think, therefore I have a plan'.

My plan was going to need a lawyer. A good one, and a lucky one.  Most of the plan was possible, even often plausible, but many intricate parts, parts I had little or no control over, would have to go just right or the plan would disintegrate.

So what was this hail Mary plan?

Well, I don't want to tell.

Just kidding.

Here goes: it all hinges on that arcane, unused, adultery law. Was I  going to resurrect it? Try to resurrect it?

No.

Was I going to somehow use it?

It will be the most important part of the entire plan.

This is the plan:

The goals are to ruin Acer's marriage, take his money, enrich myself, and enrage his followers. Simple enough.

To ruin his marriage all I  need to do is expose his cheating.  Hopefully.

To take his money all I need to do is get him to pay me for not exposing his tryst. Well...let's keep going.

To enrich myself I need the money he pays to go to me. Duh.

To enrage his followers: again, exposing the adultery should do that. But not to the obliterous, unrecoverable degree that I wanted.

This is just too simple.

Too simple as in too simple to be successful.

The reasons it most likely would never work are 1. His wife and family: What if they don't believe Acer cheated  or didn't care? 2. Acer paying for my silence: if I  threatened to take his tryst public he could fight it. He could deny it. He could use social media to advance his POV and will.

That was my greatest fear: that simply threatening to make public his adultery would not have enough effect.  I thought if I simply posted the adulterous info he would simply counter it. I needed to build a greater audience. What if I went old school and got the local news involved? That would help. That would build the audience. What if I got the state of Oklahoma news involved? That would help a lot.