We're a Wonderful Wife - Dr. & Dr. Campbell
Copyright© 2024 by Duleigh
Chapter 12
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 12 - Don returns home a broken man, but with the help of his wife Lanh, he slowly recovers. Now it is Lanh's turn to chase her dreams and they move to Colorado, where she has taken a teaching position. They meet Karole, and she fast becomes Lanh and Kim-ly's new sister. Unfortunately, life takes some bad turns and tests the mettle of their marriage, and are Lanh's angels benevolent or are they hostile?
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Fiction Paranormal Exhibitionism Oral Sex Voyeurism
Before they realized it, it was Christmas Eve Eve, the day before the day before Christmas, a day Don and Lanh celebrate as well. Lanh and Huy’s wife, Ahnjong, had decorated the Campbell house more extensively than ever. They had fun doing it while speaking Korean, a language that Lanh learned a bit of while they lived near Seoul. They laughed over Lanh’s stumbling Korean while Ahnjong spoke in equally bad Vietnamese.
Now Lanh and Don had the entire house to themselves, which was a rarity. Ralph and Sandy were spending the holiday in Mankato with Sandy’s daughter Doris, and Kim-ly was spending the evening with her new boyfriend, Tim Tran, a fellow Vietnamese.
Don was crouched in front of the fireplace. He swept out the ashes, stacked the dry wood carefully, and soon had a merry fire crackling in the andiron on the hearth. Don sat back and admired the living room, the big “store bought” tree he and Huy bought from the boy scouts and claimed they had cut the tree down in the woods. Gifts were stacked around the base and Don’s train ran merrily in circles through the tunnels made of gayly wrapped packages. Every inch of the living room was decorated with garlands and pine boughs. The Campbell farm was the highlight of the Nguyen children’s holiday and tomorrow they would all be here for lefsa, cookies, cocoa, and for the little ones, a story on Uncle Don’s lap.
On the hearth sat a heavy iron pot full of a hearty Vietnamese style beef stew that Lanh and Kim-ly have been begging for weeks for him to make. He lifted it onto the pot hook and as he set the pot handle on the hook arm; he felt a snap in his back and pain shot through him. He barely got the pot on the hook. Gasping for breath, he put the lid on the pot, then swung it over the fire, then he fell back on to his side. The pain was so intense he thought he was going to vomit, but it happens, and sadly he’s used to it. He just needs to get up. If he can. As he dragged himself to a chair to pull himself up, he wondered, why does she put up with me?
After her shower, Lanh stood naked in front of the mirror, combing her hair. A stray thought occurred to her, Don’s insistence that she wore glasses. Frowning, she studied her face in the mirror; she saw nothing wrong with the face looking back at her. Now that Don is on the mend and Kim-ly is forcing food on her, she no longer looks gaunt and worn out. She put her glasses on and saw that they highlighted her eyes, but she saw nothing special about it. Don called it “putting frames around twin masterpieces,” but Lanh always hated her eyes. In her youth, she felt they singled her out and made her far different from her classmates. It never occurred to her that being so much smaller than those classmates was why she was the butt of their taunts. Of course, at the time deep down she knew it, but for some reason she always blamed the epicanthic fold, the fold of skin that makes Asian eyes what they are.
She took her glasses off and applied eye makeup using the style that Kim-ly constantly tells her to use, then she put her glasses on and looked again. Her eyes ... maybe they are pretty. Maybe...
She picked up her silk shortie robe off the chair in the corner and caused a cascade of papers. The chair in the corner is better described as a “crap trap” than a chair because it attracts all kinds of things that belong somewhere else. This time it was papers from Don’s rehab in Grand Forks. He’s been working on handwriting, slowly getting that skill back. She noticed the first line of the assignment. It read “My Very Dear Cô Dâu, my em yêu.”
She smiled, Cô Dâu means bride in Vietnamese. It’s how he always addresses letters to her, and they’ve all been love letters. Em yêu is among the first Vietnamese words Don learned, em yêu is a term of endearment, directly translated. It means I love, or you love, but either way it means sweetheart or darling or lover or, most correctly, my love. What the words mean and how they’re used can be, like in English, two different things. Sort of like the term son of a bitch; when used by an American, it rarely has anything to do with puppies. She sat down on the bed to read.
My Very Dear Cô Dâu, my em yêu
I don’t know how to say what is in my heart other than “I’m sorry.” When I look back at all the hopes and dreams that we had, I can only see how I utterly failed at each one and dragged you down with me into a cesspool, a morass of complete and utter failure. We only planned on six years in the Air Force, and we stayed almost twice that long because of me. We wanted children and thanks to me, that’s impossible now. We planned on taking over the farm. Thanks to me, that’s impossible because I can barely walk to the barn. I can’t drive a truck. I can’t milk a cow. I can’t properly make love to you. I have no words to express how useless I feel and how I hate myself for doing this to you. I wouldn’t blame you in the least if you hated me, too.
I want you to know that if you want to leave me behind and to strike out on your own and find success without an empty, broken shell of a man to drag you down, then please do. You can go knowing that I am going to cheer you on in every endeavor and every relationship you have.
You have treated me so much better than I deserve, but I can’t go on hurting you like this. Yes, I am feeling sorry for myself, but that seems to be the only thing I’m capable of doing properly. Everything I attempt ends in utter failure and your tears. Knowing I am the reason for your tears is a dagger to my heart. I feel so sorry for you; I hate what I have done to you, and I want to stop doing that. I want to see you succeed. I want to see you grow and flourish.
Go.
Go to Colorado, take those positions they offered and make them yours, become the superstar of speech pathology that we both know you are. And if you find a man that can care for you in a way I no longer can, then I will be so happy for you and wish you joy in your future together. Maybe you will be blessed with a man who doesn’t have a stain on his record, and you can adopt and make your life complete. And if it helps, go knowing that I will always, always love you.
Don
Lanh read and re-read the letter, her blood turning to ice in her veins. How dare he! She stormed into the living room and saw Don lying on the floor. He had obviously fallen and was trying to get to a chair to get up, too stubborn to call for help. His face was a mask of pain and frustration. She stood over him for a moment, waiting for a remark. Before he left for Saudi Arabia, he would have noticed that she was naked under the silk robe before anything else and commented on it. Now she wasn’t sure if he realized she was standing over him.
With a bare foot, she pushed him onto his back. The only sound in the house was the crackling and popping of the fire in the fireplace. He finally looked up at her. His breath came in wheezing gasps. She didn’t care; she was angry. “When you show me?” she shouted, holding the letter in one hand, her anger building even higher, and her English was devolving, her accent more pronounced. She gave up on English in her anger and shouted, “Khi nào anh sẽ cho tôi xem cái này?” (When were you going to show me this?)
Oh God, he groaned inwardly. She found that note. He tried to swallow, but an enormous lump in his throat made it nearly impossible. Slowly, with a lot of mispronunciations, he said, “Tuần trước, nhưng tôi đã rất sợ hãi.” (Last week, but I got scared.) Then he said in plain English, “I didn’t have the guts ... just add that to my list of failures.”
She squatted down and leaned over him. There was a fire in her eyes that Don had never seen before. “If I take those positions and move to Greeley, will you come with me?” Her voice was forceful and demanding.
“I ... I...” He took a deep breath and said the most painful thing he ever uttered in his life. “I can’t. I can’t drag you down with me.”
“Fine, I call and tell them I decline their offer,” insisted Lanh.
“You can’t!”
“I stay here and work the farm with Ralph. You can cook, Problem solved,” and that was that.
“Em yêu, you...”
“DO NOT call me sweetheart if you want me to leave you!”
“ ... these offers ... it’s your dream ... I just ruin everything...”
“I do not marry Northern Colorado University, I marry YOU,” Lanh nearly shouted. “Where you go, I go. Where you live, I live.” She leaned close until their noses almost touched. “My dream is not a job, my dream is YOU, my dream is US!” Her accent was horribly pronounced, and her eyes were filled with her own pain as she whispered, “You save me from Joshua Grimes when he try to rape me. When doctor tell me I’m barren, I broken, useless empty shell. You carry me, you heal me, took years! Now it my turn to heal you. Let me save you! Do not take my dream!”
Don’s internal agony was now intensified. Instead of setting Lanh free, he hurt her even more. He was trapped in a hell of his own creation, and he dragged Lanh into it with him. And he didn’t know how to make amends. “I don’t know what to do ... I don’t know what to say...” He was lost.
“Say it,” she demanded as she straddled him, then her voice softened to a kind persuasion. “tell me again.” He looked confused, so she started. “I, Nguyen Huong Lanh, take you Donovan Aloysius Campbell to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, all the days of my life, till death do us part.”
Slowly, as if coming out of a dream Don repeated the words they practiced almost fifteen years ago with the little change they added for their wedding, “I, Donovan Aloysius Campbell, take you Nguyen Huong Lanh to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, all the days of my life, till death do us part.”
When he finished, their lips met, their tongues gently touched and caressed each other. Then suddenly her tongue drove deep into his mouth, their mouths pressing together tightly. She began tongue fucking his mouth, her tongue sliding in deep, claiming his mouth as her own. This was the most intense kiss he’s ever experienced. Despite the pain in his back and his hip and his heart, he found his cock getting hard. When their lips parted, Don took a shuddering breath. He felt almost like he was forgiven for the grievous sin of being a burden. “Where do we go from here, Dragon Lady?” he gasped.
Lanh smiled, one of those joyful, full-face smiles. Even her eyes radiated joy. “It is simple Agent Double Oh Seven and Five Eighths, we accept offers, we hunt houses.” Her voice became calm, her grasp of English returned, showing she was feeling secure. “We get you into the VA and we transfer to the Denver VA system.” She sat up straight and moved forward. “But first we send out invitations...”
She opened her robe and lined up her pussy with his mouth. He capitulated. He was now her possession, her fuck toy, hers to use however she wants. For incentive as he heals, she’ll let him return to the driver’s seat, but right now ... she lowered her pussy on to his waiting tongue. “Invitations for what?” he got out before her pussy covered his mouth. He looked up at her and his eyes focused on her firm breasts, her nipples swollen and hard like when they were young, before they learned what pain was really all about.