Enduring Devotion

I love my wife. There's no doubt in my mind that she still owns my heart. We've been married for nearly a decade and that is something that has never changed. What has changed is that I've gotten busier.

When we got married, we were fresh out of college and I had just gotten involved with a start-up company. We fell incredibly hard for each other, me quite sooner than she. I had noticed her in some random accounting class that my counselor suggested. She sat in the back corner and kept to herself, hence why it took me two full weeks to even realize she was there.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I woke up more excited just with the knowledge that I would get to see her beautiful face. She was painfully shy; that much I could tell but she intrigued me. Something about her drew me in and wouldn't release me. I only happened to meet her by chance.

I was running late one Monday morning from partying all weekend when I smacked right into her. She fell right on her a*ss and all of her papers and books sprawled all over the secluded hallway. It just so happened that she not only fell on her luscious a*ss, she banged her head on the wall and was knocked out cold. I of course freaked out but helped her.

When she came to, she practically ran from me. What I took away from that day was that her name was Rosemary, she was mute, and I didn't give a damn. I wanted her and I wasn't going to let the fact that she couldn't talk stop me. She avoided me like the plague for a couple weeks but I was persistent.

One Wednesday night, I decided to go to the library because I had a big English paper to write. As I was skimming the aisles for the book I was looking for, I heard sniffling. It was too constant to be a cold so I knew someone was crying. I knew that I should leave to give whoever it was a private moment but sue me! I was curious. I peeked around a tall bookshelf only to have my heart lurch in my chest.

Rosemary, was sitting at a lonesome table silently sobbing. I couldn't stop myself from walking over to her and wrapping my arms around her even if I wanted to. She surprisingly let me and I reveled in her body warmth.

When she finally stopped, the world froze as she finally looked up at me. The deep bruising around her eye was enough to have my blood boiling, ready to pound whoever hurt her into the ground; six feet under to be precise. She wouldn't tell me what happened but I think she realized that she could rely on me to be there for her.

We started spending more time together on campus and I know that as time went on, it was getting harder and harder to be apart whenever she went home. I noticed random bruises here and there, on her wrists and her neck. I didn't ask right away because I knew that she wouldn't tell me but I suspected abuse.

After a month of fighting over it but unable to stay away from each other, she finally admitted that her father did beat her. After a long journey of trying to convince her and a near-death experience, I was finally able to get her to move in with me and away from her father.

Turns out, he was a drunken bastard that didn't really realize when she was gone to begin with unless he was needing a punching bag; in which case her step-mother was a perfect candidate. I tried to get her step-mother help but she downright refused and even slapped Rosemary for suggesting it.

Needless to say, I knew Rosemary was saddened about her family but she was much happier living with me; even if it was still in my parent's house. I even learned sign language so we could communicate without needing a cellphone.

It wasn't long until we were having sex. I was experienced with sex after having more than my fair share of one night stands but she wasn't. She was a virgin and as hypocritical as it was, I f*cking loved that it was just my c*ck inside her. I was the only one to make her p*ssy clench around me in orgasmic bliss and I was the one she craved.