3 Americas: More Truth Than We Can Handle 05 A Pearl Necklace for Christmas (WARNING: Includes Explicit sexual material, not appropriate for young readers)

(Last updated: January 14, 2023)
3 AMERICAS: More Truth Than We Can Handle
Chapter 05
A Pearl Necklace For Christmas
by DR Wolfe

{As I continue a full revision, this is one of the new chapters from my revised autobiography, “3 Americas: If We Can Handle the Truth.”}

(Includes strong language and explicit descriptions of sex.)

Hearing the sound of someone softly knocking, I stopped typing and went to the door. It was my landlord, Phil.

“There’s a sheriff deputy here that wants to talk to you,” he said, but he didn’t know why.

I was to learn that my wife, Christel, had filed for divorce in Lane County. This would be the third time we, or she, had filed for divorce over the last three years. I thought, this definitely meant there wouldn’t be any more conjugal visits.

Christel and I got married in the summer of 2002, but it wasn’t much of a wedding. We were married by Washington County judge Mark Davis, which was a funny coincidence since I used to call in to a local talk show in Jacksonville, Florida, and talk to a former-CIA guy, as if they ever retire, named Mark Davis. And they sounded allot alike, the judge and the radio guy.

And ironically, we were married in the same county who conspired to destroy my life three years later, as I’ll explain.

Along with the divorce papers from Lane County, the deputy also gave me a stapled packet of exhibits labeled A through Z that Christel had submitted to the Court along with her divorce petition.

With some help from one of my stoner friends, I began sorting through the paperwork. The first thing I discovered was that many of the alphabetically marked exhibits were missing. However, perhaps accidentally, she included an exhibit marked Q, dated October 13, 2004, which was addressed to Detective Dennis Marley of the Beaverton Police Department, which sounded a lot like a written confession. Curiously, it was dated a little less than two months before I was to be indicted by the District Attorney in Washington County.

In one paragraph it described what would seem to be a sex crime knowingly committed by her against her oldest daughter in 2001 while we shared an apartment in Beaverton, Oregon.

In other words, she was sleeping with me in the fall of 2004, pretending that we were working things out, while she was writing this nasty letter about me. And the cops took the bait. Or maybe they were the ones, along with perhaps her friend Judge van Dyk, who encouraged her to put it in writing and sign it.

Using my scanner and screen reading software, I began reading the letter she sent to Detective Marley. As I read, I began thinking about the night she was referring to in her letter. It was kind of a strange night, as I began to recall. It was in the fall of 2001 around Christmas. But it wasn’t the only time things got weird around Christel… But maybe that night was a lot more weird than I imagined.

As I read This exhibit, a 2004 letter to Detective Marley, I realized it was submitted to the Lane County Circuit Court in February of 2007 as an attachment to her petition for divorce. And therefore, it was submitted, along with all the other attachments, as being a truthful sworn affidavit. This means it is a permanent public record.

That is, unless the courts are lawfully convinced to seal some or all of the records. And this is exactly what Michelle Bo Victor, my wife’s attorney, did in 2007 to cover up this conspiracy. Which triggered a number of tragedies, as I’ll explain.

This is why I believe there should be no licensed attorneys allowed in family court, except to represent the children. Divorce lawyers, like personal injury lawyers, corporate lawyers, and most government lawyers, are the most unscrupulous people among us who only desire power and money, no matter how many lives they destroy. They use Non-disclosure
Agreements to cover up the crimes committed by the rich and powerful.

In the next three chapters, I describe how my wife’s lawyer and my wife’s new boyfriend, Chris Rascon (and his ex-wife, Elizabeth “Libby” Rascon), arranged to have Clackamas County arrest me three days prior to the trial, in May of 2007.

The evidence I will present proves that her attorney, along with a man named Jay Scroggin, did this to prevent me from questioning my wife about this particularly revealing letter Christel sent to the Beaverton Police Department in October of 2004, about an incident in 2001.

In this revealing letter she described her own failure to set appropriate boundaries involving her girls and her male partners. And if Detective Marley wanted to dig a little deeper, He would have discovered that it was more than this one particular night.

Are you wondering, why am I disclosing all of this here?

Because I have twice been denied the opportunity by law enforcement and the courts in Oregon to actually appear in court and confront my accusers or the evidence against me. And as I’ll explain, I was given a lawyer who was only there to serve the interests of the prosecutor, and perhaps, securing his own promotion within the public pretender system.

And finally, because our constitution and natural law provides that anyone formally accused of committing a crime or any other sort of wrong-doing, as her hidden letter to the police documents, has a legal right to publicly defend themselves in whatever peaceful manner would best protect them from the implied threat to their life, liberty or property by an allegation such as this. This is a natural law granted to every American under both our state and federal constitutions.

Since I can’t afford a team of lawyers, and I have no guns, my disabilities leave me with few options as to how to best respond to this personal attack, questioning my character. So, this time I won’t leave my fate to a government paid lawyer, working for the dark side.

As the reader hears my version of what happened that night — finding myself naked in bed with my girlfriend’s pre-teenage daughter, who may have also been naked, an having an erection. The facts will speak for themselves as to who was responsible for these circumstances. Sounds pretty bad for me, doesn’t it? But as they say the devil is always in the details.

This new evidence, the October 13th, 2004 mysterious letter to Dennis Marley, strongly suggests that the cops and the prosecutors, Robert W. Herman and Gregory W. Olson, were protecting my wife. The government was using her to destroy my credibility, as they once promised to do.

During the “investigation” they only had one goal. They only wanted to discredit me, so they kept Christel and all of the exculpatory evidence out of their investigation. And there was so much exculpatory evidence it is hard to see how they could have missed it, unless this is the normal practice in the Oregon courts when it comes to indigent defendants with severe disabilities?

For example, this letter proves she admitted that she was the one who brought her oldest daughter into the bed with us that night, where we had just been making love. She knew I was naked.

So what was her true intent that chilli winter night? I always wanted to think it was just a lapse in judgement on her part, and not a personal, up close lesson in sexual practices and techniques designed for her daughter’s education. Unknowingly, or unexpectedly, I participated in several of these up close lessons I feel compelled to talk about now. And I also feel compelled to talk about the history of one of America’s most corrupt states, and the politicians and judges who protect this far-left network of well-organized criminal conspirators, posing as District Attorneys, judges, politicians, and cops.

As I continued to read her letter, I thought to myself, why in hell would she write and sign this confession and send it to a cop? I hadn’t said anything about that weird situation, being naked in bed with her daughter . I completely forgot about it until receiving this letter. But maybe there was something else going on that night that was even more bizarre then I imagined.

There was a few other equally troubling incidents, as I’ll describe later, in great detail. Like earlier that same fall when I was given an erotic lap dance from each of her daughters, who were both completely naked. While their mother sat a few feet away giggling and vicariously watching out of the corner of her eye.

Christel was always doing this crazy sex stuff with me, including sometimes while her girls were either watching or being encouraged to participate. You can judge my participation and responsibility, but first at least hear my side of the story.

In the next chapter I describe my experience of being locked up for 42 days in the Washington County Jail, with some psycho lesbian deputy who was telling other inmates I was “faking my blindness to avoid responsibility for my crime.” And by doing so, she was intentionally endangering my life. But here’s why Detective Marley, Bob Hermann, Greg Olson, and a few important people from Clackamas County didn’t want any of the details in this case to ever go to trial, and were willing to do anything to make sure. And here’s why.

Despite what happened to her as a young girl, I always wanted to believe Christel would be okay and grow out of this sort of thrill seeking, vicariously living through her daughters. And I truly hoped we would eventually settle down and become a “normal family.”

But the system in Oregon isn’t designed to help traditional families heal, that’s obvious. It’s about scoring touchdowns and running up the score on the weaker opponent. Just like Eaton Rapids wrestling coach (and academic counselor), Jack Provencal always did. It’s all about being number one, no matter the cost.

In the fall of 2001, when all of this was going on, we started getting couple counseling at the Templeton House because of my own initiative to save our screwed up relationship. However, when we started talking about our sex life Christel made some excuse for not ever wanting to go back. This is most likely because she didn’t want this couple who had been counseling us, both individually and as a couple, to ever know about these crazy sex games she liked to play. Sometimes involving her girls.

I wondered why she would bring her sexually-curious older daughter into our bed that late fall evening, despite that we had just been having a romantic moment. I do remember feeling disappointed and a little frustrated when I felt her and her daughter climb into the bed. And after this happened I remember telling Christel that I would appreciate it if she would make sure that neither of the girls slept in the bed with us late at night, even if her last boyfriend Rick didn’t mind.

When we first started seeing each other, she would complain about Rick’s vast collection of porn, and his “pornography problem,” and his bad teeth. While I can’t be sure about the condition of Rick’s teeth, I do know now she didn’t mind the pornography as much as she pretended.

The girls got to look at a lot of pornography before we met, since I suspect Rick is the one who put it on their mom’s computer, with Christel’s consent. It was under a folder called “Sloppy Seconds,” which was located on the desktop directly below the link to the girls favorite computer game.

If you’re wondering how I know, it’s because she also allowed me to install my screen access software on her computer. And although the screen access software doesn’t read graphics, other than to say this is a graphic, it does read file and folder names, and text.

I suppose Christel and Rick could always claim it was actually a link to Dr. Hook’s infamous album with the same title, which included several childhood classics the reader may remember, like “Looking’ For Pussy” and “Get My Rocks Off!”

Not only did Christel’s girls have easy access to lots of sexually explicit material, as I’ll explain, but all of their friends were able to view it as well. This included the daughter of a Clackamas County Circuit Judge (Douglas van Dyk), who may not want it known that he failed to properly supervise his adopted daughter when she visited.

It’s no wonder the girls were both already extremely curious about sex when I started dating their mother in February of 2001.

I’m going to jump ahead in this story, and you can read all the explicit details below, but I’m going to tell the reader now exactly why I think Christel needed to get me to do something inappropriate with her older daughter. She did everything, and I do mean almost everything she could think of, to facilitate this arrangement. Here are the brutal details, if the reader can handle it.

Every day Christel was grooming both of us to become interested in pursuing these opportunities to become sexually involved. What’s strange is that it seemed so natural for Christel to do this. I suppose she may not have always known she was doing it, trying to make us both aroused by talking about something sexual while we were in her company.

As I mentioned, both of the girls seemed very interested in their mom’s sex life, and apparently enjoyed secretly watching us make love. Although Christel may have been in on this secret, as I’ll explain.

But this isn’t normal, especially for a ten or eleven-year-old girl. Correct me if I’m wrong, but usually kids by this age are completely grossed out by the thought of either of their parents ever having any kind of sex life. “YUCK!”

It’s possible that maybe before we met something had been happening at night with Rick or his teenage boys, while the younger daughter was sleeping. And if Christel knew and didn’t do anything to stop it, this would be a crime.

Would if she had actually encouraged it? Let’s say, she got her older daughter to take off her clothes in front of Rick and the boys, and climb in the tub or bed with them, since she did this with me several times.

According to Christel, Rick and her had been regularly dosing her younger daughter with Benadryl at night. So, after the younger one is asleep, there may have been more serious things going on between the other three? Or maybe the oldest daughter and one of Rick’s teenage boys, who often spent the night at Christel’s duplex in Springfield?

I would imagine Christel must have been worried about someday being caught, and being prosecuted. Maybe it was limited to some touching or being touched or licked, and maybe sometimes letting the girls watch the adults fool around, it would still be a serious sex crime anywhere in America. Surely, Christel had to know this was wrong, and she knew that a jury would find her behavior in allowing this to happen, repulsive.

Let’s say, maybe Christel needed some way out. Maybe her and Rick figured out that they needed some other man to do something even worse with one or both of her girls, to get them off the hook. Maybe that’s how it began, when Christel began stalking me in the fall of 2000, always hanging out at her ex’s, waiting for me to show up.

Is this case beginning to sound suspicious? I hope so. They destroyed my life and stole my kid.

When Christel and I first started seeing each other, Rick lived down the street and knew I was coming over and staying the night, but never interrupted us. Even though the girls told me he was also staying over one or two nights a week. Yet he never once showed up while I was there? This is strange, isn’t it?

Because of an incident that happened around the 4th of July, which I describe below, I know Rick had a key to Christel’s door. He could have easily walked in on us any time he wanted. but he never did…and every guy out there knows, this is very odd behavior for an ex-boyfriend who still had a key.

How could he not mind me being there, making love to his ex? Did he know it was only a temporary arrangement? Was it because he had no other choice, if he wanted to keep himself and maybe one or both of his boys, who were thirteen and fifteen, out of prison?

Was it because of something that had been happening at the duplex involving the older daughter, who may have only been eight or nine when it started?

Which coincidentally is the same age that Christel liked to pretend to be when we played one of her favorite sex games, described below.

Later that summer, in 2001, Christel transferred from the University of Oregon in Eugene to Marylhurst University, which was located southeast of Portland, and forfeited almost an entire year’s worth of credit hours.

I understood why she wanted to attend this particular school, based on what she said about it being a Catholic University. But I didn’t understand why she got an apartment in another county Where coincidentally Rick and a Jesuit Priest she knew well from Eugene had both recently moved.

Did too many of their Springfield neighbors know too much about them, and they were worried that their plan to frame me would be exposed?

Maybe they figured, if their plan was going to work, they needed some new neighbors who didn’t know their past. That’s when they began encouraging the older daughter to start “seducing me.” Obviously, she was way to young to understand how she was being manipulated by these adults, who were apparently encouraging this developing ten-year-old girl to take off all of her clothes around me and hop on my lap, facing me. And then I suspect they told her to tightly wrap her arms and legs around my body…and not let go!

I suspect the bedroom community of Beaverton and cops like Marley and Oaes, gave them the perfect place to pull this off and cover up the crimes of the past.

It was the perfect place to make me the “bad guy,” as Marley’s partner Eric Oaes, put it, and destroy my life, and eventually steal my kid.

When I learned about this letter to Detective Marley, written by Christel in the fall of 2004, I first began thinking she may have had some other inappropriate intentions that night. That is, given what I know about her unquenchable sexual appetite, her desire to follow her thrills, and her need to explore new exciting adventures and “break the rules” whenever possible.

As everyone from Marylhurst’s Art Department knew, Christel’s favorite expression, and I don’t think she was only referring to her art work, was, “I want to learn all of the rules, so that I can break them.”

Besides pursuing a serious relationship with a woman with two young daughters and no healthy boundaries, the biggest mistake I made since coming to Oregon in 1998 was agreeing to talk to a cop. I made the mistake of letting these two detectives come into my home, hoping I could make them understand as a blind guy how crazy it was living with someone like this, a sex maniac. However, after ten or fifteen minutes it became obvious they could care less about the truth, if it conflicted with their version. They already decided I was the bad guy in this story, and Christel was completely innocent.

Marley did all the talking. Only thing I remember Oaes saying was something about going to see some little kids in Corvallis, Oregon, and teaching them about “bad guys,” which sounded kind of creepy, given the context of our meeting

As I said, these two knuckleheads weren’t interested in learning the truth. Obviously, their sole objective was to entrap me into saying something they could twist in front of a secret grand jury, since there would be no chance to present my side before I would be secretly indicted and arrested. And like all indigent people, being arrested is the same as being convicted.

That week, I told Christel I would talk to the grand jury if they wanted to hear my side of the story. She pretended to be neutral. However, I remember, she became nervous when I brought this up and said it wasn’t necessary. I think she, Olson and Marley had already set it up so that several witnesses would lie and no one would know, once I was indicted.

“After he’s indicted, the rest will be easy,” I suspect Marley told her.

This is what the cops and the State do to any poor person they want to “destroy.” By over charging someone and lying to the grand jury, they could frame anyone. Then by setting the bail high enough the state can easily hold an innocent person in jail for a year or two awaiting trial, hoping they would break and take the plea bargain. And then, once a plea bargain is signed, no one in the legal community would ever ask about what went on in the grand jury proceedings.

Their logic is that no innocent person ever takes a plea bargain. And that’s why they use the county jail to create the most egregious, unhealthy situation possible, hoping the accused will break down while waiting trial.

In Reuben Miller’s 2021 excellent book about being wrongfully incarcerated, “Half Way Home,” he writes “95% of all court cases end in a plea deal, after a person has spent any where from several weeks to several years in a cage. Of the 2.3 million people who have been incarcerated, 40% are black, 84% are poor, and half have no income at all. The 2,626 people who have been exonerated since 1989 spent an average of nine years for crimes they did not commit. Half are black, and nearly all of them are poor.”

In other words, innocent wealthy people never go to prison. If the police and the prosecutor were making innocent mistakes, the reader would think there would be these mistakes made equally among poor and rich defendants, but apparently that isn’t the case. The reader will soon discover why.

Before I was arrested I told Marley and Bob Hermann in writing in November of 2004 I wanted a trial, and would never take a plea bargain. So why wouldn’t they arrange for me to stay in my home and give me an ankle bracelet instead? Did they think a half deaf-completely blind guy could somehow secretly get away and hide for the rest of my life, with no source of income?

Maybe the deal Detective Marley offered to Christel included ignoring how the daughter got this book of explicit pornography, and all it’s revealing fingerprints. And stashing her confession letter of October 13th somewhere in the back of a file cabinet, where only he could find it. Similar to how Clackamas County did a few years later with the sexual assault complaint filed against a man named Ward Weaver.

Weaver’s son’s teenage girlfriend had filed a complaint in Clackamas County, and the complaint wasn’t found until after Weaver was arrested. It was hidden in the back of a file cabinet.

Unfortunately, after assaulting his son’s girlfriend, Weaver went on to kill two other girls, who were twelve and thirteen. And not surprisingly, no one was ever arrested for hiding the original complaint.

So maybe when Detective Marley first read Christel’s confession he knew immediately that he should, at the very least, also be filing charges against her. He had to know, by stating that she had knowingly brought her ten-year-old daughter into bed with her naked boyfriend who was already aroused, she had committed a crime. This would be obvious to anyone who had completed Criminal Justice 101.

And if she was willing to admit to this much, how could Marley have not wondered what else she isn’t telling? Especially after finding this explicit book of pornography in the older daughter’s bedroom, even though she was only thirteen at the time.

But maybe he was told to keep Christel, her mother, Rick, Frank, the friendly Judge and his campaign manager from Clackamas County, all of her professor friends, a doctor and a sleazy shrink ironically named Tinker-Bell, the Ford Foundation, as well as Marylhurst University and the Catholic Church, completely out of his investigation. And that’s exactly what he did…and why I’m telling you about it now.

Here’s what happened. The reader can decide who to believe.

First, any reasonable person must ask why in the hell would these two detectives drive all the way out to my home in Lake Oswego in 2004 just before Thanksgiving, and not ask me anything about Christel’s October 13th, 2004 letter sent to Detective Marley a month earlier?

And more importantly, why wouldn’t these two cops ask me anything about ever being naked and in bed with my girlfriend’s attractive, young, sexually curious daughter, with a massive erection! Especially since I would have told them it was true.

Can you imagine the headline had they arrested both of us for this!

So why didn’t they arrest both of us?

This is because they knew what would eventually happen, once my side of the story was told, as I’ve done here, and a jury learned the truth.

They knew she would be the one ultimately held responsible by any jury for encouraging her daughters to play simulated sex games around her boyfriends, and their teenage boys, while she was coaching them and knowingly exposing them to highly explicit sexual material.

But like most cops and most lawyers who will do or say anything to win a case, to hell with the truth.

Apparently, neither the DDA, Greg Olson, Detective Marley or the Washington County Prosecutor, Bob Herman, ever turned this October, 2004 letter over to my appointed public defender, Gregory Scholl, as far as I know. And you must agree it was a critical piece of evidence, proving my wife’s own bad behavior. It’s also possible that my attorney decided to never tell me, and I was the only one left out of the loop.

In a fair legal process, this intentional deception by the police, the prosecutors, and perhaps the public defender, hiding such critical exculpatory evidence (which they do to poor people all the time), ought to be enough grounds in a truly fair legal system for the courts to completely dismiss my coerced plea bargain. A deal I made with the devil to get out of Sheriff Rob Gordon’s isolation dungeon.

The sad fact is, across America men with disabilities, like the poor and some other minorities, are often targeted by unscrupulous cops and narrow-minded persecutors, like Bob Hermann and Cy Vance, rather than the actual wrongdoers, for many reasons. It’s all about going after the low hanging fruit, like me and Pedro Hernandez. Rather then climbing to the top of the tree and going after the Wall Street banksters or some AIPAC lawyer, or some former-president, or some other rich guy, like the Prince of England or the governor of New Mexico, which takes a lot more time, energy, and money.

Seeking out the truth also takes some courage, because sometimes you don’t find the answer you expected, or maybe wanted, especially when there’s a political contribution or a hot young lady involved.

Christel’s withheld written confession and a book of explicit pornography which she shared with her girls, clearly documents her role as the primary instigator in this case. For example, had the Beaverton detective taken this book of pornography into custody when they found it in the bedroom of the oldest daughter, they would have discovered that all three of the children’s fingerprints were all over the book. If the police had tested the book, after interviewing me about the children’s access to pornography, they would have found the fingerprints of several other children from Beaverton, Portland, and West Linn, including the fingerprints of the daughter of a Clackamas County Circuit Judge.

In addition, legally speaking, the evidence would prove beyond any doubt that Christel’s words and actions were instrumental in creating a sexually charged environment around her children and her male partners. And her complete immunity from having any responsibility in any of this, while charging me with a Measure 11 offense (with a mandatory minimum of 6.5 years in prison) was both selective and discriminatory. However, this is yet another example of police corruption and prosecutorial misconduct in Oregon and throughout America. My case clearly documents a pattern and practice of an ongoing abuse of power among the lawyers working under the authority of the Washington County District Attorney.

Despite overwhelming evidence of a practice of systemic discrimination against people with disabilities, racial minorities, and other indigent defendants by this county’s jail and prosecutors, the State BAR and the legislature do nothing!

So for a moment imagine your a cop, but not just any rookie cop, but rather an experienced detective with all sorts of investigative tools and skills at your fingertips, like Dennis Marley. And you get a letter from this thirty-two-year-old, sexy white mom which includes a short paragraph describing how a few years earlier she had brought her pre-pubescent, almost eleven-year-old daughter into the bed with her naked boyfriend, who she claims became aroused only after the little girl climbs into the bed. Wouldn’t you ask a few more questions? After all, it would be a good excuse to go see the hot mom during the day, while the two older kids were away.

Q: Was this normal for you and the boyfriend to do this, I mean bring the little girl into the bed with you two at night?

Q: You say here in your letter you knew he was naked? Is that right?

Q: And, if I can be personal for a minute, exactly what were you wearing before you brought the little girl into the bed with your naked boyfriend?

Q: And you say here, you got out of the bed when she knocked, and instead of going into the little girl’s bedroom with her like you usually do? Instead you brought her into your bed with you and the naked boyfriend? did I get this part right?

Q: And your also saying he didn’t become aroused at all, laying there with you dressed like that with no panties, until after you brought the little girl into the bed with you and him? Do I got all of this right?

But in all honesty, I’m sure no detective, and so maybe there’s some sort of long-term strategy in not asking these hard questions, after reading a signed confession like this… Like maybe getting into the “good graces” with the young, hot mom, and who knows, maybe hooking up when the case is over? That might explain why Detective Marley put the book of pornography back down on my oldest step-daughter’s shelf that lazy fall afternoon and apparently offered Christel a deal, if she wanted to stay out of prison?

I had been in bed for about an hour and may have fallen asleep. But I came awake when Christel came into the room. As usual, I was completely naked.

Christel liked to stay up late and work on her art. And then, when she did come to bed she liked to discover me that way, warm and naked under the blanket, waiting for her.

She would quickly slip into her nightie and slide under the covers. Then she would tightly wrap her arms around me, as though I were a life preserver waiting to rescue her from the cold, raging world. At those special moments, it seemed like everything between us was perfect!

That night, when I heard her open the door I didn’t say a word, I just laid there and listened. First, I heard her slip off her clothes and toss them into the corner. Then I imagined her slipping into her short nightie, with nothing underneath.

Then I heard her sit down at the desk and begin brushing her hair. I listened as she slowly pull the brush down through it and thought about How much i loved to run my fingers through this amazingly soft, long beautiful hair while we made love.

Facing her desk, I waited patiently under the blanket. And it was just a few minutes later when she slid her slender body into the bed next to me.

As I Turned toward her, we slid our arms around each other and began to kiss.

While I can’t remember exactly everything we were doing before it happened, or exactly how we were wrapped together, but I do remember for sure she wasn’t wearing any panties. This meant she was available if I was interested. And I was always interested in making love to her.

As I continued reading her letter, I thought more about what we had been doing that night. As I began to remember it, I recall we were going to make love, but she said or did something to let me know she wasn’t ready.

We had an understanding about making love. She always knew it was okay to let me know when she wanted or needed more time, since she knew I enjoyed getting her aroused.

It had only been about ten or fifteen minutes or so since she came to bed and I wasn’t in any hurry since there was no doubt what was going to happen. She knew that even if it was going to be a quickie, it wasn’t the last time that night I would probably want to please her. She knew, I only needed a little encouragement.

As I remember, I settled in next to her, and began to use my fingers to please her gently, the way she liked, when a hurried, anxious knock came from the bedroom door.

Faster than lightening, Christel pulled away from me and rushed to the door, almost as though she were expecting someone. It was her older daughter, who I heard saying, “Mommy, I can’t sleep.”

Startled by the way Christel had jumped out of the bed, I hurriedly wrapped the blanket around me and curled up into a ball. Pretending to be asleep, I waited. I was thinking she would get rid of her daughter. But, I was wrong.

When I heard her open the door, they may have said something else to each other, but I didn’t hear. I did hear the door close pretty quickly, and disappointedly figured Christel took her daughter back into the girls room to lay down, like she always did.

Sometimes she would get them something to eat or drink and send them back to bed. And maybe that’s why Dennis Marley never asked me about her letter, since the very moment Christel made the conscious decision to bring her daughter to bed, and then closed the door behind her, as she did, she had very likely knowingly committed a serious felony, as I’ll explain.

And maybe when he read her letter Detective Marley knew this, or suspected it and intentionally hid her letter to protect her? I honestly don’t know, except I didn’t learn of her October 13th letter until 2007.

A moment later, I felt both of their bodies fall into the bed next to me. And because of what we were doing about a half a minute earlier, I still had a noticeable erection!

I was laying on my right side, facing Christel, who was now facing away from me, toward her daughter. A few moments later Christel slid closer to me and moved her body against mine. She had to noticed I was still aroused when she pushed her bottom against me.

Since getting into bed, Christel and her daughter only said a few words to each other, and I said nothing. But I could tell her daughter was only a few inches away from her mother, facing her.

It didn’t occur to me at the time, but since getting her letter to Marley I have wondered why Christel didn’t grab part of the blanket and cover herself that night since she was wearing almost nothing. She could have easily covered the two of them, if she wanted. It was kind of chilly, around November or early December I think. And it was a large blanket that would have easily covered all three of us and the entire queen size bed with some blanket to spare.

As we lay there, mine and Christel’s bodies naturally squeezed together, even tighter, like a shiny new magnet and a chunk of steel. It felt nice, considering how disappointed I felt a minute earlier when I heard someone knock.

Then I felt her wiggle her butt, just a little, but it was enough to let me know she still wanted me… It was a disturbing moment for many reasons, I recall. Part of me thought we were having this secret, intimate moment between us, just waiting for her daughter to fall asleep and then be ushered back to her room. Hopefully with no complaint or delay.

On the other hand, I was wondering what Christel was doing by bringing her daughter into the bed with us since I wasn’t wearing clothes?

Why at the very least didn’t she leave the door open? Was she concerned that her younger daughter might wake up and hear something?

And this is what she said in the Marley letter that made me so angry. Christel knew I was aroused long before her daughter came to the door. Yet in this letter she infers to Detective Marley that I had not become aroused until she brought her daughter into the bed.

It was odd, because Christel had never brought either of her girls into our bed late at night while I was sleeping. She admitted that she knew I was already naked when she did it? She knew I always slept naked, and she had to know this would eventually come out, if the jury was to read her letter about me becoming aroused by the presence of her daughter.

This is why the history of the wire-bound book of pornography is critical to knowing my side of the story, and how their mother had hypersexualized both of her girls.

The book was first shown to the girls in the winter or early spring of 2001. I believe she began sharing it with them shortly after she bought it from the University of Oregon Book Store with the educational grant she got from the Ford Foundation scholarship.

Because of its unusual binder, I knew it was left out in the living room on a book shelf where I found it sitting many times. This is while she was living in both Springfield and Beaverton. Any one could pick it up and look through it.

I can’t say the pornography book had anything to do with this, but about a couple months after the girls started looking at the book, a woman who lived across the street on Lawnridge in Springfield came over and tried to tell Christel her five-year-old daughter was running up and down the street, naked.

I don’t remember exactly what the neighbor said, but I remember that Christel began screaming at the woman, ‘WHY DON’T YOU MIND YOUR OWN god damn BUSINESS!’

The following fall The youngest daughter’s teacher in Beaverton asked Christel to come in and talk to her about some incidents involving her daughter acting out inappropriately in a sexual manner. When I tried to asked Christel about what happened at the meeting she became agitated, so I let it drop.

And a year later, in 2002 we began taking the youngest daughter to the Morrison Children’s Center in southeast Portland because she had made several threats to kill her younger brother, Abraham. Once she described how she would drown him, so we got rid of our swimming pool.

It wasn’t just the younger daughter who was acting out. Christel told me while they were living in West Linn, in the spring of 2005 she caught the older daughter and a friend of hers one day sending out naked, explicit pics of each other, posing both together and separately.

Later that year, in the fall of 2005 the older daughter was arrested for throwing a cell phone at her mother in the presence of her younger sister and brother. Having her two younger siblings present when it happened automatically made the assault an aggravated felony.

As usual, Christel’s new friend, Judge van Dyk, came to the rescue and sent a handwritten note to the lady judge who was handling the case. he told her that he knew the young girl’s family. I suspect he explained the family circumstances and asked for leniency.

However, by interfering in the legal process, as he did in my case in 2004 by apparently tampering with the investigation we must ask, did he once again prevent a deeper investigation from taking place into this troubled young girl’s family life…and Christel’s own bad behavior?

Isn’t this what we call in a civilized society a clear abuse of power? By doing this, was this Governor Kitzhaber appointed, circuit judge trying to protect himself and any secrets the older daughter knew, and may disclose?

Would he have dared to send a hand-written note if the aggravated assault case were assigned to a male circuit judge? Probably not. Then isn’t this lack of respect for the sovereignty of a lady judge considered sexual harassment? And doesn’t this suggest that he may have also used his position on Clackamas County’s Domestic Violence Task Force to target the partners of women claiming to be abused, like me?

Women have always been the pawns of most men. Although today the game is different, and it’s mostly powerful men and attractive women who play this game.

This wasn’t always true, and most attractive women didn’t have this kind of power. For example, it was not so long ago whenever a woman was unable to bare a child for her husband, and half the time it was because of the man’s low sperm count, the woman was very often accused of witchcraft. No matter how attractive she was, she was often sentenced to death.

This way the patriarchal man was able to stay monogamous and take a new younger wife. The presumption was that the new wife would produce children, since the former wife could not. And to make sure the new wife became pregnant, after four or five months, she would make sure by secretly sleeping with a neighbor or family friend (rather than being burned at the stake).

Today this relationship between rich men and attractive women is more conspiratorial, and cooperative. As a result, poor men and unattractive women are the real victims of this arrangement.

I strongly suspect that Judge Douglas van Dyk and his friends, former-Governors John Kitzhaber and Ted Kulongoski, along with Jewish government lawyer, Marc Abrams, have likely interfered in dozens, if not hundreds, of other civil and criminal cases on behalf of women, against poor men. Although I suspect this unspoken arrangement in Oregon’s government exists everywhere in America.

Anyone who reads my version of the facts will understand how the “Goon Machine of Oregoonia” pre-determined the outcome, and knowingly destroyed my life to protect Christel and themselves.

Along with Governor Kitzhaber’s friend and Clackamas County appointee to the circuit court, Judge Douglas van Dyk, there are a lot of odd things about this particular county court and their private lives that are worth investigating.

For example, in February of 2010 one of the court’s assigned law enforcement staff, Sergeant Jeff Grahn, drove to Greshum and killed his wife, Charlotte. And then for no apparent reason wenst back into the bar and killed two of her friends, Kathleen Hoffmeister and Victoria Schulmerich. And then killed himself.

What makes this case even more suspicious than the simple question, why did he also kill his wife’s two friends, is that Sergeant Grahn did not use his own service revolver to do the killing.

Was the other gun a ‘drop gun’? When he left for the bar, was his first plan to surprise Charlotte outside and kill her (and maybe her friends too) with this other gun and then throw the gun in the bushes, making it appear like a robbery gone wrong?

Or maybe, when Jeff Grahn gets to the bar he tries to get Charlie to take a ride with him. Then unexpectedly, he puts the gun in her hand and pulls the trigger before she can react. He claims he has no idea where she got the gun, she just pulled it out and shot herself. Maybe then he claims she stole it from his dresser, which all sounds fairly reasonable…except to Charlotte’s closest friends, who knew about Jeff’s temper and previous threats to kill her…and his powerful friends on the Clackamas County Court, who would make sure he got away with it.

But maybe, when he realized that his first plan wasn’t going to work, to make it look like a suicide, he decided to shoot her anyway.

But why did he kill her there, in front of the bar? What was the urgency? Surely he knew he would have a better opportunity than this to kill her and maybe get away with it. Was he afraid she would say something she knew about the Clackamas County Court?

However, we can assume Before he pulled the trigger he knew there was no possibility of getting away with it. Clearly he knew that if he just pulled out the gun and started shooting everyone would know. But that’s exactly what he did!

Grahn had filed for divorce a few months earlier, and Mrs. Grahn did not file an answer. This meant he had already won an automatic judgement against her and got the kids and everything he wanted…but killed her anyway. Does this make any sense, unless there was something else?

Witnesses said Grahn was described by many who worked with him as being a “control freak” and a “hard ass.”

But perhaps, did he really kill her because Charlie knew some secret about what was going on at the Clackamas County Court house? It’s curious that they tore down the building just a few years after the killings in Greshum.

But here’s the possible connection. A man named Douglas Adamson once told me about “some important people from Clackamas County” who were involved in sex trafficking children six months prior to the grewsome murder of a man by the same name. Here’s the strange story.

Back in 2006, or 2007, this guy who said his name was Douglas Adamson, saw me searching for a bus stop along 82nd Avenue in a heavy rain storm and offered me a ride. When we got to my house on 76th, I showed him my medical marijuana garden and we smoked a massive joint.

As we’re smoking, he starts telling me about how he had been providing “very young girls to a lot of important people from down there in Clackamas County,” if I was interested. I laughed it off, and figured he was jerking my chain.

After that, I called him a couple times about helping me haul some stuff, and left a message at his brother Phil’s house, has he told me to do if I ever needed a ride. I never did hear back so I gave up on him about helping me haul the junk away.

Then a few months later he calls me at around one in the morning. He asks me in a very suggestive voice if I want any “company tonight,” and I hear him hand the phone to someone else. Then I hear this extremely young sounding girl giggling in the background. and then she says “Hello.” When Doug took the phone back, I told him something like ‘Hey Doug, fuck off’ and hung up. This time, I really never did hear from him again.

About six months later I heard Rebecca Marshall on the news describing how Douglas Adamson’s truck was found abandon on the 205, and how they found parts of his chopped up body washed up on the beach in Vancouver, Washington. Obviously, it made me wonder if it was the same guy I met.

And I’ve always wondered who in the world could have ever gotten this guy to pull over his truck on the highway, and just abandon it…other than maybe a cop? The article or one of the comments said he still had gas in the truck, and that there was nothing wrong with the truck, other than that his truck had been abandon along the highway for no apparent reason.

Not to sound to paranoid, but I wonder if he was recruited by one of my ex-wife’s wealthy friends to try to set me up with this young girl, similar to what Christel seemed to be trying to do with me and her older daughter?

Did Christel’s friends from Clackamas County kill Douglas Adamson to keep it secret, like the unexplained killings of Charlotte Grahn’s two friends?

Did Douglas Adamson become a threat to them because I didn’t take the bait that night and agree to the generous offer to bring this young, excited girl into my bed, or is killing the witness too crazy to consider?

Back to the Grahn killing and the important question, why did he murder his wife’s friends. Spouses kill spouses all the time, and it’s tragic. But why did he also need to kill both of her friends?

And specifically, what were they talking about when it happened? Obviously, they had to be talking about Charlotte’s divorce and what she knew about Jeff.

Did he once tell Charlotte something in a state of drunkenness that he regretted? Did he happen to mention something that involved a couple of the corrupt county judges and correction officers from Oregon City that I know a little something about? Was he worried that Charlotte had already told her friends about it?

Can you think of any reasonable explanation to explain why Jeff Grahn felt he had to also kill both of his wife’s girlfriends before he shoots himself? He would soon be dead, why would he want to make the situation for his surviving children so much worse, leaving this awful legacy behind?

It’s not rational, but spouses will kill their partner for the strangest of reasons. But the way Jeff Grahn went back into the bar and hunted the two girlfriends down, and then killed both of them, is very troubling. What secret could have been so damn important, so damaging, so damn threatening, to cause so much bloodshed?

But strangely enough, the murder of all three women by a Clackamas County police officer may actually be tied to the murder of two young Oregon City girls. That is, Charlotte Grahn’s murder may have something to do with the cover up of the murders of two young girls, age twelve and thirteen, named Ashley Pond and Miranda Gaddis. Here’s why.

As I mentioned earlier, it began with a sexual assault complaint being filed against a man named Ward Weaver by a teenage girl. She was the girlfriend of Ward Weaver’s son. But tragically Clackamas County “lost” the complaint, and Weaver went on to murder these two other young girls.

Was the Clackamas County Sheriff Department waiting for Ward Weaver to kill his son’s girlfriend before arresting him. When instead, he killed first the Pond girl, and then a few months later killed the Gaddis girl? Here are some of the suspicious facts surrounding this double-murder case.

Let’s start with this important fact about the technology that is available to law enforcement today. In Gus Russo’s best seller, “Supermob” the author describes how in 1955 a private investigator from the room next store used an infrared camera to watch a U.S. Senator rape a young girl, estimated to be about fourteen or fifteen-years-old.

In considering the case of what may have happened to the girls murdered by ward Weaver , first let’s consider this fact, doesn’t it seem likely that this infrared technology would have improved significantly since 1955? Wouldn’t you think this technology has improved enough so that someone sitting in a white government van parked down the street could see inside a person’s home, and watch what they’re doing? And maybe these are the same white vans that were terrorizing elementary children around 2015 after school in southeast Portland, and again in 2023 in Beaverton.

As intended, just like the billboard, it alarmed parents who thought that there might be another Ward Weaver among us. And it gave the cops the excuse they needed to harass every low level registered sex offender in the city.

So suppose there were some extremely wealthy child rapists and murderers among us, wouldn’t you think they might want to create a distraction by allowing a sick murderer like Ward Weaver to rape and murder his son’s girlfriend, but it didn’t work out that way. Instead he rapes and kills two other young girls on their way to middle school.

Fact is, this county seems to have a lot of unusual deaths under Sheriff Craig Roberts. Coincidentally, did I mention that this is the same Oregon county where I was living when my own nightmare began, in 2004.

Here’s the first important fact you should know about the Ward Weaver case. Both of these girls disappeared on their way to school. Despite that we eventually learned that every day they had been walking directly bye the home of their eventual assailant, law enforcement apparently never searched every house, garage, or shed along the route the girls took between their homes and the bus stop. That seems curious, doesn’t it?

The police knew that the girls both disappeared on their way to the exact same bus stop, which you would think would have been a major clue to take a really close look at every house, garage, and shed along the girls’ route. But that’s not what happened until long after the second girl disappeared.

Now compare this willful incompetency to the massive, invasive search that took place following the Boston Bombing, in which the Forth and Fifth amendment were completely shattered with absolutely no due process. And because of it, now America is going to murder an innocent Muslim man.
Even though the video proves the bombing was done by two other men , working for this CIA startup company called Craft International, curiously founded by “American Sniper” Chris Kyle.

What Clackamas County judge wouldn’t have granted Sheriff Craig Roberts any search warrant he wanted? Especially if the owner had refused access to their property.

We should ask, would A complete search of the neighborhood have resulted in finding the body of Ashley Pond, before Miranda Gaddis was murdered?

We learned after murdering Ashley Pond, Ward Weaver put her body into a barrel and stashed it in his shed which was located behind the house.

I suspect there are a few people from Clackamas County and the local Fusion Freak Center, coincidentally located in Clackamas County, who knew all along exactly what happened to Ashley Pond. But maybe they wanted to wait until Weaver had raped and killed another girl, before putting up a billboard and thoroughly searching the entire property, where both of the murdered girls’ bodies were eventually found. What’s also suspicious is that one of the girls was buried under a brand new cement patio, but no one noticed Weaver putting in the patio even though two girls in the neighborhood were missing. Perhaps it was just plain incompetence, and nothing deliberate. But nothings ever deliberate when it comes to the Deep State, is it?

After the second girl was murdered it took several weeks before the police came back to Weaver’s house and searched the shed. Does that make any sense?

As I said, maybe they needed a child rapist and murderer to distract everyone from what I believe is a wealthy, ruthless gang of professional lucifarian pedophiles and child pornographers operating out of the Willamette Valley, who are being protected by judges, politicians, and state and federal law enforcement agents.

About three years after the girls were murdered, Lard Larson and the local Alpha Media stations, including KXL, began playing a commercial from Signature Paving about providing a service where a person can get Mike and his crew to burry the body of any local anarchist…or perhaps, anyone else?

If the billionaires who run our government and corporations are kidnapping, raping, and murdering children on their secret islands and New Mexico ranches, and are protecting each other while their telling jokes on the local radio station, then they would need an alternative villain to blame, wouldn’t they?

First they would need to convince the distracted, dumb downed public their version is true, by repeating the message over and over, and over. And maybe they would do this with the help of Oregon sports reporter, the righteous asshole himself, John Canzano.

Canzano, the highest paid print journalist in Oregon, thanks to NIKE and Paul Allen, is apparently not able to write stories about anything important or that really matters. You may remember, he is best known for outing the wife of the Oregon Ducks head football coach, Mrs. Beloti, for allegedly having sex with one or more Duck players. Then a few years later, this asshole outed an Oregon State University pitcher for having some sort of inappropriate sexual contact with his younger cousin, when he was thirteen.

So maybe with the help of Canzano and the other local presstitutes, in the case of Ward Weaver, the police only need to hide a sexual assault complaint in the back of the cabinet and wait until he rapes or murders one or two girls, before moving in for the arrest.

As I mentioned, when Weaver murdered the second girl, “they” quickly put up this massive billboard along side Portland’s Ross Island Bridge with the faces of the two missing children to constantly remind everyone…and keep the public in a state of terror as long as possible as apparently it was planned. And who are the real terrorist I ask?

A statement from a young, attractive FBI spokesperson, Beth Ann Steel, in which she is seen crying into the camera when the bodies were discovered, was played by the local media over and over, and over, for weeks and weeks . But the local media never asked the Clackamas County Sheriff Craig Roberts any hard questions about the mistakes that were made during the investigation.

For example, no one in the media would dare to ask why didn’t Sheriff Roberts arrest Weaver sooner? Like the same day he assaulted his son’s girlfriend, before he killed either of these girls?

But not surprisingly, the Clackamas County Child Protective Scum and Lard Larson came to the rescue of Sheriff Roberts, and went after Miranda Gaddis’s mother. They blamed her for negligence, which they said led to the murder of her daughter.

But manipulating the legal system for those in power, who use the media against the middle class and the poor (which is anyone without immediate access to a quarter million dollars in money or property) is just business as usual. And it’s not just Oregon, it’s everywhere.

I believe these Clackamas County thugs, with the help of Homeland Insecurity and the “Fusion Freaks”, are behind everything that’s been happening to me. The disruption to my phone and electric, the gang stalking, the voice-to-skull noises, the explosive devices thrown at my RV, the nightly shocks, the weekly vandalism, being sprayed wit something, and the theft of my mail. So who are the real domestic terrorists, I ask?

Not surprisingly, it began the moment I threatened to expose my wife’s physical, mental, and sexual abuse of her own children, which I write about in great detail below.

I believe that’s the real reason why Detective Marley didn’t take the book of pornography into evidence when he found it in the older daughter’s bedroom in 2004, and perhaps check it for fingerprints.

Taking this book into evidence that fall was critical to not only learning about the current hypersexualized environment all three children were living in, but absolutely essential to protecting their future, not to mention the safety of every kid who already had, or would, look at this book.

Ask yourself, how would a four-year-old boy, like Abraham, process a picture of a man, who appears very happy about what he’s doing, shoving his penis into the mouth of a woman?

Just like his older sisters, how long before he himself would begin to act out the images from this book. A few years later, would he began to explore his curiosities with some neighbor girl, asking her, or maybe forcing her, to do this with him? Obviously, he isn’t capable at this age to completely understand the concept of “consent?”

I thought this was the point of investigating our family. After all, other than god (who knows it wasn’t my idea), who cares if Christel and I did it along side some nun’s graveyard with the camera rolling, and the nuns watching?

Christel had a thing for graveyards. Several times, including once in the fall of 2001 in the middle of the night she took me into this gated yard at Marylhurst, where she told me dozens of nuns were buried, and we made out. Another time after September 11th when we visited the nuns graveyard I mentioned that I wouldn’t mind getting a flag for our porch, since she told me every grave had a flag, Then she went over to one of the graves and broke off the flag and gave it to me. I was shocked, but never said anything to her, since saying anything about anything seem to upset Christel.

After we moved to southeast Portland Christel like to take Abraham and me to the military cemetery off of Flavel. We would bring lunch and sit in the grass between the graves, even though we didn’t know anybody buried in the cemetery. It was a little creepy, like a lot of things Christel did before and during our marriage.

However, if a cop or DA doesn’t want to know the truth, then they simply don’t ask the question. And definitely don’t take anything in to evidence that would challenge their “conspiracy theory,” about the “evil step-father and the struggling, innocent mom,” vicariously living through her daughters.

Slowly we began to push our bodies against each other, in rhythm. Then I remember at one point Christel reached back behind her and briefly touched me for a moment. It surprised me since I thought we were going to wait until her daughter went back to her room before we started fooling around again.

It always felt good the way she would first cup me into her palm, and then start stroking her slender fingers up and down, rubbing her thumb across that soft vain under the tip. As an artist, she had these sensitive, strong thin fingers and what was the most creative touch you could imagine…up and down, round and round.

I can’t say exactly how many times she touched me, or how long she did that each time, touching and squeezing it gently in rhythm with our hearts, and then letting go. I was torn between this weird, awkward embarrassing feeling and this unbelievably strong desire to tell her how much I loved her. I wanted to tell her how much I especially loved her sweet, secret way of pleasing me, without letting her daughter know what we were doing, or so I thought?

It took about fifteen or twenty minutes of her gently touching me in this way before I realized that very, very soon I was going to lose control of the situation.

My brain was telling me to say nothing, promising that soon I would feel that unbelievable, instant burst of relief that leaves a man gasping for air, and usually seeing stars, even if you’re blind.

When it got really close, I said something like, ‘You better stop’, and chuckled once, giving her a gentle push away.

She did stop moving her hand, but didn’t leave go. And I didn’t want her to stop, and maybe she knew this and was waiting for me to say, “Never mind! Don’t stop!”

It was like trying to slam the breaks on a speeding train, at the same time you were trying to get those damn stubborn mules back into the barn!

Taking a deep breath, I did everything I could to not let my passion flow from my body into the world, and said nothing.

And it’s true. There was a brief moment there when I wanted her to continue. I felt like I just didn’t care anymore about anything else other than feeling a completion in what we were doing. I wanted so badly to release the pressure and crank the valve open all the way! Trying to convince myself maybe her daughter wouldn’t notice what we were doing.

Maybe for a moment there I even tried to tell myself that she wouldn’t understand what just happened. And I started to tell myself that maybe she wouldn’t notice or recognize that familiar smell.

And in that one instant I tried to also convince myself that this surging river that was roaring up from inside, ready to overflow the banks, wouldn’t later find its way over to her daughter’s side of the bed, staining her pajamas, if she was wearing any…

But another part of me, a smarter side, a much stronger side, said that kind of thinking was really, really stupid, and extremely dangerous!

I was breathing pretty good from the first moment she touched me. I remember burying my face in the pillow, behind her shoulders, to mask my heavy breathing, but as far as I knew, the room was completely dark and quiet. I began to imagine that her daughter was listening to every quick breath I took, and would know what happened if we didn’t stop…RIGHT… NOW!!

Then I imagined her daughter hearing that first gasp of air at the instant the dam broke lose. It’s an unpreventable reaction, and unmistakable sound that would be hard to misinterpret. I imagined her daughter asking me, “Don, are you okay?”

I knew both the girls had watched a lot of R rated movies growing up that included many scenes of love making and I’m sure she would know exactly why I was suddenly gasping for air. Even if she pretended not to know, but for fun asked anyway.

At that moment, everything stopped, and a moment later, we reluctantly pulled apart. Rolling away from Christel’s warm, mostly naked body, I heard and felt the two of them climb out of the bed.

Then I heard Christel quickly walk her daughter out of the room and close the door. She returned about fifteen or twenty minutes later, and we made love. I never thought much else about that strange night when I almost ejaculated while her daughter was in the bed, until I got a copy of the 2004 letter Christel wrote to Detective Marley.

But since getting a copy of her letter, the one question I can’t get past is why did she put any of this in a letter that she was going to send to the cops?

Most of the letter was pretty vicious and accusatory, but only directed at me, or so it seemed.

But this one admission, admitting that she brought her sexually-curious, almost eleven-year-old daughter into bed with her naked boyfriend, seemed odd. And it seemed pretty dumb, to write about me getting an erection, and then sign it, and then send it to a cop!

And why didn’t Marley follow up on this written confession? Or did Detective Marley make some kind of a deal with her to say nothing about the letter? It’s not the only evidence he accidentally came across that should have raised a lot of questions about Christel’s own parenting skills and the safety of the children.

Yet the cops and the DA chose to completely ignore all of it, and blame me?

Who gave you this book,” he should have asked the thirteen-year-old daughter, when he found the book in her room.

“Has your younger sister or any of your friends seen this book?”

So I’m thinking to myself, maybe it was guilt Christel was feeling when she decided to write this confession down and send it to Marley. Maybe it was a subconscious need to confess her own bad behavior or her bad intentions, as though he were a priest and she needed forgiveness.

I think her daughter knows more about what was happening that night we were in bed, even more than me.

Fact is, Christel may have been worried the daughter might tell someone about all of this some day, so Christel needed to cover her own ass, no pun intended.

She may have also been afraid I would bring some of it up at some point in the future, like during our divorce/custody trial, and she wanted to make sure that her version was the one everyone heard first. And the one everyone believed. It’s common knowledge that it’s a lot easier to lie to someone than it is to convince someone that they’ve been lied to.

Why did she need to bring up anything about that night? Was it yet another lesson in human sexuality designed for her oldest daughter’s education and Christel’s own gratification, demonstrating one fun way she might be able to please her boyfriend without risking pregnancy?

This is the way Christel would often think — she would often think about including her girls in her sexual fantasies, as I’ll explain, in explicit detail:

If you’re not over eighteen, or if you’re sensitive about Reading explicit, graphic sexual material, and it does get a lot worse, then you need to skip the rest of this chapter.

Frankly, there’s not any other way in which I can defend myself, as a completely blind man, and fully describe how horrifying it was to be forced into these dangerous, compromising situations by someone I trusted. And what I suspect may have been one or more of the nefarious plans afoot.

As I describe my suspicions, I should begin by giving my ex-wife the benefit of the doubt, and try to imagine a possibility where her intent was mostly innocent, although not wise or motherly with regard to the safety of her daughter.

This argument would be even stronger, if we remind the reader about Christel’s extremely sensual, highly sexual nature, and most of her art work reflects this fact. And perhaps it was this part of her which briefly took over her good sensibility, with regard to compromising her daughter’s virtue. I would like to think so.

Like, maybe she just wanted to please her boyfriend, who had just moved in. And she didn’t care if her daughter suspected we were touching each other in the bed next to her, as long as she didn’t actually see anything.

Maybe in that moment, Christel forgot the daughter’s age and imagined her being younger than she was with very little knowledge about, or interest in, human sexuality.

Or let’s say, would if she knew her daughter knew about what was going to happen when she came to the door, and agreed to say nothing when her mom began touching me, as she watched!

When Christel first pushed her bottom against me, I felt her wiggle her butt a little, but it was enough to let me know she still wanted me.

I recall, it was a strange moment. Part of me thought we were having this secret, intimate moment between us, just waiting for her daughter to hurry up and fall asleep and then be ushered by her mom back to her own bedroom. Hopefully with no complaint or delay.

On the other hand, I was wondering what Christel was doing by bringing her daughter into the bed with us, since I wasn’t wearing clothes, and had an erection. Even if she thought it was only for a few minutes. It was a moment of cognitive dissidence I was feeling.

And that’s what really made what she said in the Marley letter so infuriating! Christel knew I was aroused before her daughter came to the door. Yet in this letter she suggests that I had not become aroused until her daughter got into the bed.

When Marley and his partner came over to speak with me in 2004 the day before Thanksgiving, he didn’t ask me any questions about anything in Christel’s accusatory letter, and I knew nothing about the letter she wrote, dated October 13, 2004. In addition, he didn’t ask me one question about the pornography book Christel said he found in the older daughter’s room. It truly seemed as though He didn’t want to know anything about anything that mattered.

Maybe because he knew I might tell him that before this one night, she had never brought either of her girls into our bed late at night. She admitted in her letter that she knew I was already naked when she did it? She knew I always slept naked, and she had to know this would eventually come out, if the jury was to read her letter about me suddenly becoming aroused by the presence of her daughter.

The important question now is who else saw this letter before I got a copy in 2007? Did Marley show it to the grand jury? I doubt it.

I suspect he didn’t also mention the book of pornography, unless he found a way to blame me. But I can assure the reader, other than the cover, my fingerprints would have never been found on any of the pages, had Marley ever checked.

That night, I don’t know if Christel’s daughter actually saw anything, but Christel’s letter proves there was a lot more going on than I knew.
Maybe having this secrecy between them about their sexuality was a sort of mother-daughter bonding. Like the book of pornography they often shared.

After all, it was what Christel said she learned as a very young girl when her own mother would allow some of her male friends to fool around with her and her sister, while her mother pretended not to see.

When we first met, Christel would often talk about her mothers boyfriends and their friends, and what they did with her and her younger sister.

According to Christel, this began when she was about four-years-old. One of the disturbing stories she told me happened when she was riding with her sister in the back of a pickup truck with one of her mom’s boyfriends’ friends, who molested both of them. She said she thought her mother out of the corner of her eye could see everything he was doing, but never turned her head or did anything to protect them.

If it matters, her mom was a kid herself. She would probably be described as a party girl, still a minor, only about sixteen when this happened.

Like a lot of American kids, Christel told me that her father was rarely around. And her mom was in and out of relationships, and got married and divorced several times wile she was growing up. Although according to Christel, her mom never married her father, saying she didn’t want to be his “Wifiepoo!”

It’s curious how even though a person is being abused by a parent or a coach, they will still protect their abuser. Christel’s father, who’s artistic skills she often spoke of fondly. died of a heroin/cocaine overdose a few years before we met. Christel insisted it wasn’t suicide, but maybe it was guilt that killed him over what he had done to his daughter.

Christel wanted our son to be named after her father, and I reluctantly agreed. So we named him, Abraham “Timothy” Wolfe.

Christel never said a lot about how her father’s bad behavior may have contributed to her sexual addiction to sex and pornography. I concluded by what she said, he wasn’t any better than her mother when it came to providing any sort of parental supervision or healthy boundaries.

He was ten years older than her mother, who was ten or eleven when they began “seeing” each other. But it wasn’t that many years before this , in the early 1900’s when the age of consent in many states was only ten-years-old. In fact, during the gold rush in Alaska, some sex workers were only around eleven or twelve-years-old.

Interestingly, the man who became Christel’s oldest daughter’s father was more than fifteen years older than her when they began sleeping together. Her first husband was twenty years older than her. and curiously, I was twelve years older than Christel. Obviously, she was attracted to older men.

Once or twice Christel talked about “breaking the cycle,” but I didn’t figure out what she meant…until many years later.

However, this is the forgiving side of me, that wanted to believe that things would always get better for us, and that she would stop playing these unhealthy sex games and stop seeing other men, and lying to me about it.

But because the facts say otherwise, there are a lot of odd things about that night that suggest something else was going on.

For example, I couldn’t tell, but would if Christel had intentionally left the light on. The way her and her daughter walked in and out of the room so quickly, makes me think now that maybe the light was on the whole time?

I don’t remember hearing the click of the desk lamp. I could usually tell when the light changes in a room, but because of my blindness, unless it’s a really, really bright light, once it’s been on a short while I could no longer tell. Now of course, I can’t see any light, although I can usually feel the heat from a bulb, unless it’s a LED light.

And whether the light was on or off matters because she had mirrors almost everywhere in the bedroom. Hanging on the closet, mounted on the headboard, and across the desk, which was located right next to the bed.

maybe this is why she never pulled the blanket over the two of them, and partially uncovered me when she first reached behind her to touch me? I remember her pulling my manhood out part way from under the blanket, laying it on her butt cheek as though it were a canon being placed on its raised mount.

She rubbed it a little and waited for me to react, as she often did, in her own sexy, playful way.

And then a moment later, she rubbed it again. She did this several times, as the blanket began to fall away.

I assumed Christel’s body blocked any possible view of what she was doing with me, not to mention, I figured it was completely dark in the room. I wasn’t worried about her daughter seeing anything.

Not to make excuses, but I completely forgot about all the mirrors she had mounted around the bedroom.

But if the light was on, then I suppose her daughter might have looked toward the closet or headboard mirror and seen some of what was happening behind her mom’s back, which meant she may have been watching my erection grow as her mom rubbed my penis.

This would be a crime, if a mom knew her underage, sexually-curious daughter was becoming gratified by watching her do this to her boyfriend and did nothing to prevent it. And I suspect it would be an even more serious crime if the mother had planned it in advance, to let her sexually curious daughter watch her fondle her blind boyfriend.

And it may be the reason why Christel felt she needed to include a paragraph about that night in her letter to Marley, in case it came out later that she let her daughter watch.

Maybe Christel told her something before coming to bed like, “It definitely isn’t the same as seeing it in a picture or drawing sweetie.”

Once earlier that fall in the middle of the night Christel had made this near life-size chalk drawing of me for school, completely naked. The next morning she showed both of her girls, as though she couldn’t wait (to excite them), even though she promised me at the time she drew it she would only show it to her drawing teacher, Dennis, and her fellow art students.

A few days later I overheard Christel and the girls talking about circumcisions, and suspected their question had something to do with the drawing of me Christel had shown to them a couple days earlier, since I happen to be circumcised.

It was another weird moment, listening to this conversation:
“You see sweetie, the circumcision helps to keep the penis clean, which helps prevent spreading disease.”

She went on to explain, “The circumcision also makes the tip a little larger which helps to make the woman’s ‘didi’ feel good.”

While I imagined her pointing at my circumcision, she told them something like, “And the larger tip helps to keep the man’s penis from coming out while they are making love.”

So the reader understands why this is, as a “recipient” of this accepted Catholic/Jewish practice in many western cultures, I’ll try to explain it in my own words.

During the circumcision the skin of the penis is cut and pulled back, away from the tip. by removing a small part of the skin near the tip.

The circumcision makes the tip more exposed and thereby, more sensitive to touch. For this reason the tip is said to swell up quicker and grow slightly larger than it otherwise would. Although perhaps, the accuracy of this comparison should be debated among women?

As a “victim” of what I feel is in actuality a form of ‘male genital mutilation’, I can tell you a little about the results, although I can’t claim to remember the moment it happened.

But if it had to be done (without my consent), I am grateful for having being raised by Irish Catholics. Since I do know for sure it was done to me by a doctor in a hospital, rather than in a back room by some holy man’s teeth. OUCH!

After the circumcision is performed, a firm, raised ridge just below the tip of the penis, about an inch or two from the tip, where the skin was originally cut is created and becomes more noticeable as the boy grows older.

During arousal the ridge will become firm and will protrude even further as the penis becomes engorged with blood. For this reason the tip and its raised ridge act like a reverse plunger once it passes through the opening of the vagina and is fully inserted into the vaginal canal.

Similar to how I overheard Christel explaining it to her girls, after penetrating the lips of the vagina, the circumcised penis is far less likely to slip out until the man ejaculates and the tip of the penis begins to shrink back to its normal size.

Meanwhile back in the bedroom, shortly after she began touching me, maybe four or five minutes later something happened, which might explain her letter to Marley.

I noticed Christel began to lean way forward. At one point laying almost flat on her belly, facing away from me.

I remember this, because I remember thinking something about her body felt strange, the way she was no longer leaning against me but still touching me. At some point I reached down for a brief moment and felt her wrist and butt, and thought her wrist was at a really odd angle. I kind of remember thinking it seemed like a really uncomfortable position for her hand while she was touching and squeezing my tip, but I didn’t want her to stop and said nothing.

But if she wanted her daughter to see everything she was doing, and the light was on, then it would explain a lot of this. It would explain why she pulled me out from under the blanket and was leaning forward so much while reaching back since this caused the blanket to fall away. Her daughter only needed to raise her head a very little to see over the top of her mom.

On the other hand, if it was all planned ahead to let her daughter watch by leaving the light on, her daughter could have piled up a couple pillows when she climbed into bed with us, so she would have a real “good view” of what her mom was doing.

Or would if they had arranged instead that, for educational purposes only, it was her daughter who had stretched her right arm over the top of her mom and was the one touching me? She tells her daughter it’s also going to be a test to see if I would make her stop, if I figured out it was no longer Christel. Her daughter agrees with the plan.

Meanwhile, Christel tells her daughter she will pretend to have fallen asleep, so she can’t ever be blamed if I figure it out.

Back then, I never considered the possibility that anyone other than Christel would ever touch my most private body part in our bed. But given all the other nutty stuff that went on around there I probably should have been expecting almost anything from the three of them, when it comes to sex!

To be fair, there is a possibility that Christel really did fall asleep after leaning forward and touching me a few more times, and knew nothing about what happened next, until afterward. She doesn’t mean to fall asleep on me, but she’s tired and that’s why she didn’t go back to the girl’s room, like she usually did.

I don’t really remember for sure, but it seems like there was a few long moments from the time she laid on her belly and the time when I was touched again. So I suppose that it’s not completely impossible that her curious daughter, who is buzzed and feeling aroused from watching, could have reached one hand over the top of her sleeping mother and carefully used her fingertips to touch the tip of my exposed penis, without her mom or me knowing it!

Maybe as she’s doing it, she’s watching her mother sleep, hoping she won’t wake up, as she feels the moistening tip grow larger.

I had no reason not to believe it was Christel’s fingertips fondling me, but the letter to Marley forces me to wonder. As I think about the way it felt at that moment, being explored, In all honesty, I’m just not sure.

So here’s a couple possibilities I thought about:
Maybe Christel pretended to fall asleep. She is waiting for, and maybe even hoping , her daughter will try to touch me, since they had joked around about it earlier.

So maybe in a moment of boldness the older daughter reaches over the top of her mom, who appears to be sleeping, and begins to explore my circumcised tip for herself. She knows I’m blind and she figures I would never know, if she were really careful.

And she may have known her mother wouldn’t, or couldn’t, get angry because of all the other crazy stuff that had been going on over the last couple years. She knew even if her mom did happen to wake up and catch her, it didn’t matter.

So making sure I didn’t find out was her only real concern, and maybe she figures just like what happen on the couch, I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it except make her stop.

Her daughter may or may not know, but Christel is only pretending to be sleeping, enjoying the entertainment. And also hoping I wouldn’t notice it wasn’t her touching me, but she doesn’t want either of us to know she’s awake in case her daughter gets caught!

Or as I said earlier, maybe before they came to bed they made an agreement to let her daughter do this with me as long as she can pretend to be asleep. Christel says, “I’ll get it ready for you, and then pretend to fall asleep. then you take over, but be really careful and only touch it very lightly with your fingers, the way I showed you. If you try to use your whole hand he might figure out it’s not me.”

Earlier that evening, let’s say, ever since her little sister went to bed her older daughter’s been sipping on her mother’s wine and asking non-stop questions about sex and circumcisions, and as they start thinking about bed, Christel knows their both feeling aroused. So Christel tells her daughter to wait fifteen minutes. And wile she can’t make any promises she will try to set it up so that her daughter can watch, or without me knowing, maybe even explore with her fingers an actual circumcised penis.

“for educational purposes only,” she jokingly tells her daughter, as long as she absolutely promises that “No one will ever know.”

The older daughter agrees, and becomes excited by the thought of touching it. She’s been thinking about sex a lot lately. And since she just found out her mom was pregnant, she’s been wondering to herself about what it would feel like having a baby growing inside…maybe with “those haunting blue eyes.”

She knows her grandmother was only eleven when she became pregnant with her mom. And her grandmother told her that Mother Mary was barely twelve when she gave birth to Jesus. She didn’t really know, but her mother told her she didn’t really believe the story that Mother Mary was a virgin when she became pregnant.

She thinks to herself, it takes at least nine months to grow a baby, which means Mother Mary must have been barely Eleven when Joseph impregnated her.

The older daughter is feeling a little buzzed and not considering the long term consequences when she begins gently squeezing the tip and rubbing it. Then for reasons she can’t explain, she begins using her fingertips to remove some of the fluids.

The first few times that night I know for sure it was Christel’s hand touching me. So it is a little troubling as I think back about it. This is because I remember the person touching me didn’t begin to wipe off the tip until some time well after Christel began leaning forward.

After taking her daughter back to her room, she says, “Don, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I must have fallen asleep and had no idea she would try something crazy like that! But we can’t tell anyone, okay, or we’ll both be in big trouble?”

What can I do, so I agree to this code of silence.

Then maybe a couple months later we find out her daughter is pregnant, and her daughter confesses to the police about what she did after her mom fell asleep. She claims in her version her mom knew absolutely nothing about nothing. She says it was completely her idea, on the spur of the moment!

After some encouragement from the police, the older daughter agrees that it’s very possible that I may have known it was her touching me, and not her mom. She admits she did it for a wile, first just briefly touching me for a moment and then leaving go. Waiting to see what I would do. Each time she holds on a little longer.

She doesn’t know why, but then, with her fingers, she started touching herself too. She says she wasn’t trying to get pregnant, but maybe she did think about it a little. She can’t remember. “But she does remember drinking some of her mother’s wine when she wasn’t looking.

She doesn’t know how long or how many times she touched me. But maybe she tells them she didn’t stop until she heard me say “stop.”

After a little more coaching she agrees with the lady officer, that I had to have known that it was her fingers touching me.

And when the tests prove the baby is mine, what could I possibly say to prove I always believed it was Christel touching me in the dark that night, and no one else, other than that’s exactly what I thought, until I read her written confession.

The fact is, the night my girlfriend brought her daughter to bed, I really had no absolute way to know absolutely for sure who was actually touching me without touching the rest of the arm of the hand that was touching me.

I pretty much forgot about the crazy incident a couple months earlier, when her daughter brazenly got naked and unexpectedly jumped on my lap, facing me. and wouldn’t let go! But I’ll get back to that story a little later.

At the moment when Christel and I were squeezed together, I would have never imagined in a million years that she would ever just lay there and let her daughter touch my penis, but I realize today that when it comes to sex, absolutely anything was possible in this family. Including the possibility that I might have even co-starred in several “child pornography short films,” and never knew it.

But let’s start over. To be completely fair, as I said earlier, Christel may have not known anything about what was happening until the moment when I may have woke her up. The moment when I began to feel that strong, familiar urge to ejaculate, and wanted to warn her before it actually happened.

Because why? Because I knew her daughter was in the bed with us, and I didn’t want her daughter to know we were fooling around. Otherwise, obviously, I would have been a pig and done nothing until it was over.

Before this, while I was being gently touched, about five or ten, or maybe even fifteen, minutes, both of my hands were resting against Christel’s shoulders and my face was buried between her upper back and my pillow (to mask my heavy breathing).

If I think back about it, Christel never did actually say anything wile “she” was touching me? That is, until after I told her to stop and gave her a little push with my hand And even then, she didn’t say anything, just got out of bed with her daughter and quickly left the room.

All I know is that someone kept squeezing the tip a little, moving their finger tips in a circle under and around the tip, and then stopping to wipe some of the semen off. Or at least that’s what it felt like.

Around this same time, I had found a carefully carve carrot resembling a penis among Christel’s art supplies, And it’s possible that Christel had used it to show her daughter where the penis was the most sensitive. And how best to touch it.

It might explain what happened when I whispered in Christel’s ear to stop. And maybe her daughter heard me tell her mother to stop?

As I said, at the time the fingers that were touching me paused but didn’t leave go. If it were her daughter’s fingers that were touching me, she may have been told to make sure I ejaculated before stopping and was waiting for her mother to tell her what to do.

Or if it were all her own idea, she may have been waiting to see if her mother woke up before leaving go. Who ever it was, seemed like they didn’t want to stop, and I sure didn’t want “her” to stop

I know if “she” had only paused for a few seconds and then kept going, I would have let it happen. Figuring that if Christel didn’t mind, then I guess her daughter was asleep and it was okay.

At that moment I wanted nothing else, but as I said earlier I felt obligated to warn Christel, simply because her daughter was in the bed with us.

So maybe this is what happened. Christel really is asleep. But she wakes up and suddenly sees her daughter’s arm reaching over her waist, and after a moment figures out what had been happening while she was sleeping. After all, they had talked about letting her touch me, if the right opportunity became available.

Or if Christel’s pretending to be asleep, maybe she looks at her daughter and shakes her head and silently tells her to stop.

After what seemed like a long moment, as though they were deciding what to do, who ever it was abruptly let go.

I remember feeling a little sad, since I was expecting at the very least a slow, gentle squeeze goodbye before she let go, assuring me that “We’ll finish this later.”

A few seconds later, the two of them got up together, without a word, and quickly left the room.

Maybe when their alone, her daughter tells her mother what she was doing, she tells her she was exploring my circumcision just like they talked about. When her mom doesn’t get mad, she confesses what else she did with my fluids. But she doesn’t know if I know it was her touching me.

Before her mom has a chance to get mad, her daughter reminds her about their agreement about having sex. She tells her “This was all your idea mom!” Like the naked lap dance and the family baths?

And what can her mom say about any of it, so they make a plan to say nothing.

And maybe the plan they made, and the reason Christel needed to tell Detective Marley part of the story in her letter, was to make sure she blamed me first in case I ever said anything about this night. This way they are able to keep the rest of her daughter’s secret, a secret.

Since I never mentioned it after that night(because I never gave it much thought), Christel figures I’m clueless to the fact that her daughter had been the one touching me. And then maybe also secretly touching herself. This family seemed to have a lot of secrets.

So it’s possible, Christel and her daughter may have planned this entire evening together, like the incident on the couch or the baths together.

There was a few different times when Christel would disappear from our bed just after we made love. I just assumed she was going to the bathroom, but she never came back to bed. The next morning she said she was checking on the girls and fell asleep in their room, but now I can’t help but wonder if she went in there for a different reason.

Did Christel sometimes go into the girls room just after we made love to make sure some of my fluids dripped onto her daughter’s sheets, or somewhere else incriminating and difficult to explain?

Especially, if I never knew she had kept this “evidence.” And then later Olson presented it to a secret grand jury, with a lab report confirming it was my semen that was found on one of the older daughters panties.

It certainly would explain how the hell they were able to secretly indict me with a quarter million dollars bail.

Without access to my screen reading technology, which allows the computer to talk, I was completely helpless in the jail and at the mercy of the Washington County’s unscrupulous prosecutors and the DA’s favorite public pretender, mumbling, bumbling Gregory Sholl.

In the beginning, I know for absolutely sure it was Christel touching me. And I’m pretty sure it was Christel’s fingers touching me every time that night, and would have never thought there was any other possibility. The truth is, when you’ve been aroused for awhile, it starts to feel a little numb, and almost any sort of friendly contact down there feels pretty good, even if once and awhile its your own hand (with a little “Luger Marquis”)!

I do know that if Christel had left the light on, and had a video camera running, a ten or twenty minute film showing an almost naked mother and her young naked daughter taking turns stroking the fully erect penis of a sleeping man would be worth a whole lot of money in the child porn business, which I understand is a flourishing industry here in the Willamette Valley, and along the entire west coast.

Imagine someone was making a video of a mom, who appeared to be asleep, laying next to her naked daughter who is touching a man, who is sleeping under a huge blanket.

The camera shows this developing, very attractive young girl touching the man’s erect penis. Without her mom knowing, she is seen removing something from the man’s tip and then moving her fingers down between her legs, leaving the viewer to imagine what she’s doing. Now that kind of child pornography would be priceless, even if the mom and daughter had staged it.

Or imagine someone is secretly video taping what almost happened, while her daughter may have been watching.

Christel is going to aim my penis toward her daughter just as she feels me begin to ejaculate! And that’s the exact way it was pointing, and what almost happened, if her daughter had raised her head and was looking over the top of her mom while her mom was rubbing me.

Yes, of course, this is a disgusting thought; the thought of A mom giving her young pre-teenage daughter a pearl necklace from her mother’s boyfriend for Christmas!

Fact is, when I knew her, Christel was a sex maniac, and pearl necklaces was something her and I did together many times. Once she told me that it was the most sexiest thing I could do when we were together. Afterwards, she liked for me to rub my semen into her skin, saying it was good for her complexion.

So it’s not beyond a reasonable person’s imagination that she would want to share this sort of exciting adult experience with her oldest daughter, similar to what she said some of her mother’s boyfriends did with her.

Then who knows what would happen next, if I lost control and sprayed her daughter with my fluids. Would they both start laughing hysterically and run out of the room, and jump into the shower or tub? And then call me in the bathroom to join them?

Just like this one time all three of them tricked me when the oldest daughter said, in a serious voice, “Don, come here quickly, and look at this.” As I walked out of the bedroom, Christel’s oldest daughter took my out stretched hands and placed them on her breast, but were instead, the breast of a stuffed push up bra she was wearing!

At first, when I heard her call my name I ignorantly stuck out my hands, palms up, thinking she was showing me something fragile, which was partly true. Then, when I touched her, she, her mother and younger sister all laughed garrulously, quickly snapping a pic. Ugh!

So the reader understands how the grooming process works, here’s a good example of how this early casual encounter should have went, if I had wanted to keep playing in these reindeer games.

After fondling the nipples of the bra for a few moments, I say something flippant like, “Would you excuse us ladies.”

Then in one motion, I pick up the older daughter in my arms, who only weighs about eighty pounds, and before her mom can react, I carry her back into the master bedroom, quickly locking the door.

Then I tell the older daughter, “Let’s play a joke on your mom!” She agrees.

I tell her to go over there and bounce on the bed and start yelling, and moaning, “OH YES! OH DON! OH YES please!” And I tell her to not stop until her mom unlocks the door, while I go over and sit by the computer.

So, a few minutes later, when her mom finally gets the door unlocked with the butterknife and sees us and sees nothing’s going on, we all have a big laugh.

Except I’m thinking, maybe the next time she’s naked I’ll get her to play this same game with me, with a different outcome.

First, I’ll carry her into the bedroom, and once again quickly lock the door. Except it’s not just a silly little game this time.

I’m hoping that her little sister doesn’t notice, and mommy doesn’t worry about where her daughter went, or worry about unlocking the bedroom door…until it’s way, way too late!

There were lots of opportunities when one or both of the girls were running around the house or apartment naked, slapping my butt, and their mom was totally, and completely distracted by her art. If her daughter had already been sexually-active for the last year or so and something like this happened (with some other boyfriend), it would have been possible that Christel would have never known.

Let’s say, after locking the door, the boyfriend lays the older daughter on the bed and quickly lies on top of her, pulling the blanket over them and pulling off his shorts.
She suddenly realizes they are both naked, and giggles, imagining what her mom would say.

She feels the soft pressure pushing against her and naturally arches her back. The gentle probing feels pleasantly familiar.

She notices her body is starting to feel warm, and it’s beginning to tingle all over. It’s feels nice, she thinks. So she relaxes, as she’s told, and let’s it happen.

Then about ten or fifteen minutes later she quietly slips out of her mom’s bedroom and goes back to her room and quickly puts on her clothes. Then she lays down on the blanket next to her sister in front of the TV, without her mom or little sister ever knowing.

At this point, hopefully the honest reader is asking, once this sort of intimacy begins, and a mother is encouraging her daughter to let her boyfriend touch her private places, where does it end?

However, back here in reality. About one or two seconds later, as soon as she took her hands away and I realized the joke they just played . I let go of her fake nipples, and did nothing else. Yet, three years later, I was charged with a Class B felony for touching her breast in a sexual manner!

So the reader should have figured out by now that this is the kind of “playful” stuff that was fairly normal behavior, for this family. But when I tried to explain this to Marley and Oaes, Marley instantly began attacking my character, and the pretence of our friendly conversation ended.

I can imagine, at the time Christel must have been thinking something like, “So what’s wrong with letting a blooming young pre-teenage girl, who is beginning the change and who is obviously in touch with her own sexuality, do what she wants to do. Including, compassionately letting my blind boyfriend gently rub her emerging nipples?” while mom joyfully watches.

but apparently, after I threatened to expose Christel’s bad behavior two and a half years later, she was no longer the compassionate, understanding mommy.

For the record, I sent a certified letter to the DA, Bob Hermann, and Detective Dennis Marley before I was indicted, in December of 2004. I told them all about this incident involving the alleged touching of the older daughter’s breast, which was actually a stuffed push up bra she was wearing.

I think they arrested the wrong person, Because Christel arranged this, and probably everything else. When it happened, the older daughter may have been wearing nothing other than panties and a bra. Or it’s possible, the older daughter may have been wearing nothing at all, other than this push up bra I briefly touched (while Christel may have snapped a picture, unless she had set up her video camera in the hallway).

Christel loved the arts, including photography. And her younger sister performed as an extra in several Hollywood movies, including the original ‘Adams Family.

Shortly after we began seeing each other, her daughters told me, and she confirmed this later, that their mom had a crush on the guy who acted in the movie, “If you could see what I hear.” I apparently reminded their mom of the actor, Marc Singer, who played Tom Sullivan in the movie.

Although, their mother insisted the actor’s name was “Rutger Hauer.” But maybe it was just the dark shades that turned her on. What’s curious about this confusion is that Hauer did star in a movie called “Blade Runner.” If you don’t know, the movie was about these super soldiers who served as the government’s killer cops, and who were programmed to live for only four years.

Curiously, it was four years to the day, February 16th, between the time Christel and I consummated our relationship in 2001 (four days after we met), and the date in 2005 when she helped Bob Hermann and the Deep State destroy my life. And keep the secret, a secret.

What is also curious, she said her favorite song was “Wicked Games” by Chris Isaac. and her favorite movie was “A Beautiful Mind.”

If you don’t remember, the movie “Beautiful mind” was about the brilliant mathematician, John Nash. Nash developed Game Theory, the study of the process of decision making, which interested the CIA and the military. Nash believed he was constantly being watched by the Deep State for almost twenty-five years. In 2001 The CIA got Ron Howard and Hollyweird to make a somewhat flattering movie in which Nash appeared to be an extremely paranoid, genius.

In 2015, His wife Alicia and him were most likely suicided by the government on a highway in mob-controlled South New Jersey, while riding in the back seat of a taxi. interestingly, Wikipedia makes it sound like the Nash’s were reckless in not wearing seatbelts, as though wearing seatbelts while sitting in the back seat of a taxi cab is completely normal. Do most cabs even have seatbelts in the back seat?

And curiously, the taxi driver and the other driver were not killed, although Nash and his wife were both hurdled from the vehicle.

The alleged accident happened shortly after it was reported by an alternative news source that during the 1960’s and 1970’s Nash had in fact been a target of J. Edgar Hoover and the FBI, and the rest of the Deep State, who we know today protects billionaire pedophiles and watches everybody but themselves and the wealthy pedo’s. How else could Epstein fake his suicide?

In light of what is still happening to me today in 2024, Isn’t this curious?

There was rarely a day when her or one of the girls didn’t mention something about their “didis” in front of me. This was a term of endearment the girls and their mom, and grandmother, all used to refer to their private area, which I assume included the labia, vagina, clitoris and vulva.

Let’s say, Christel carefully explains, “You can watch as long as you absolutely promise, “hope-to-die,” to never tell. Even if any of his fluids get on you.”

Her mother explains, “Sometime sweetie, when it happens it goes everywhere!” The older daughter sort of understands, or maybe understands perfectly.

Maybe Christel reminded her, “it’s critical that you don’t say a word or make a sound, and don’t you dare scream when it happens,” so I never knew her daughter was watching or was the one doing it. Maybe, I never figured out that her mother had given her the detailed instructions she needed to get away with it, and they counted on my ignorance.

“I’ll be in way big trouble if anyone ever finds out,” she says. Except in Oregon, If I knew what I know today, I could have told her back then that as a woman, she had absolutely nothing to worry about. And maybe she knew in the back of her mind, the Ford Foundation and their powerful friends from Marylhurst and the Catholic Church would take care of everything, as they apparently always do for their young ladies and their Jesuit Priests.

Is this all starting to sound creepy? Sadly, given Christel’s past behavior of always being the victim, both real and imagined. It is a real possibility that using her daughter to destroy my credibility may have been the plan from the beginning. And perhaps long before we ever met.

Using all sorts of sexually explicit tools, like books, computers, drawings, Hollywood movies, and sculptures (and a few vegetables) I often over heard Christel teaching her daughters about sex. So using me for a few live demonstrations while she filmed it all isn’t beyond her thinking, as I may have discovered.

I remember the three of them once sitting on the couch looking through the same book of explicit photos that Detective Marley left behind.

I have never actually seen any of the pictures, since I’m blind. However, based on what Christel described to me, the photo book (with no text) showed this same couple having sex in dozens of different positions.

While they were all sitting on the couch, I heard them discussing the pictures in the book, and I heard the younger daughter asked something about “Why are they doing that?”

“Because it feels good,” Christel responded.

“Can I do it, mommy?” She asked something like this.

Christel laughed and said, “Maybe when you’re older.” But she never explained to her daughter how much older she would need to be to “do it”.

But any reasonable person must ask, why would she show these explicit pictures of adults having sex to a six-year-old girl. Unless, Christel was grooming both her daughters to be interested in sex.

Then the younger daughter asks something like, “Why are they doing it in different ways?”

And if you think about it, it was probably a fair question to ask, coming from a little girl who new nothing about sexual intercourse.

I listened to Christel explaining to her girls why they were changing positions. She said something like, this made the woman feel good when the man changed the way it was rubbing against the inside of her didi.

In retrospect, maybe I should have thought about how her older daughter would process this information, since she seemed unusually quiet. But I do remember thinking with some alarm at the time about how her younger daughter would react. Maybe if she was more mature for her age perhaps she might be able to process some of it. But I remember being a little embarrassed when Christel began going over the pictures in the book, one by one.

By then there had been several serious incidents which raised red flags about the younger daughter’s mental and emotional health, and her tendency to often focus on this topic (sex) during conversations with both adults and other children.

When I asked Christel about this later, and if this was a good idea to share so much information about human sexuality with them, especially the youngest one? Christel told me that she felt since the collection of photos were all taken of the same couple making love, and this Australian couple was also married, it wasn’t pornography, but rather a form of art. Since I couldn’t see the pictures, it made sense at the time.

Maybe it was the angles that the photographer used that made it art, or maybe it was the lighting she used. But the pictures themselves, and the acts they were performing, through the eyes of six and ten-year-old children, was clearly pornography.

So the reader is clear, it was pictures of a man and a woman having sexual intercourse in multiple positions, and having sex in multiple ways. And it was evidence that the police had in their possession, for at least a moment.

I believe the book was intended to gratify Christel by seeing her girls being gratified, similar to what happen on the couch.

So if the police had the evidence they needed to arrest this white, hot mom, and she lied under oath to the Grand Jury, and they arrested her deaf-blind husband instead, doesn’t that prove how corrupt Washington County’s prosecutors are?

It’s not just Washington County, almost every county in Oregon suffers under the same level of corruption, because of the politicians, judges, persecutors, and cops, who are directed by their Zionist masters to go after racial minorities, men with disabilities and any one else without money or influence. And like LaVoy Finicum, any other person that opposes mandates, or any other kind of oppressive government or corporate control.

According to Christel, in the fall of 2004 Detective Marley picked up this same book he found in the older daughter’s bedroom but chose to not take it into evidence. As far as I know, he didn’t ask Christel if I had given her daughter the book. And he didn’t ask if any other children had seen it.

I know at least three of the older daughter’s girlfriends looked through the book when they came over, while we lived in Beaverton and southeast Portland. And apparently, after moving to West Linn, the book was viewed by the thirteen-year-old adopted, mentally-challenged daughter of a Clackamas County Circuit Judge, Douglas van Dyk

Without his wife, Judge van Dyk would often bring his daughter by my estranged wife’s apartment to stay the night. Apparently, the judge’s daughter would sleep over night and look at the book of pornography. As I mentioned, the book was readily available to any of the kids who wanted to look, regardless of their age. And if Marley had done a fingerprint test, he would know this is true. But perhaps, he didn’t want to know?

Curiously, this same detective told me that because my oldest step-daughter had made a few cuts on her body that it meant that I had been molesting her, and apparently told the grand jury this, who voted to indict me.

What is interesting is that around this same time in the fall of 2004, my wife told me she had seen Judge van Dyk’s daughter once when she got out of the shower and told me this young girl had dozens and dozens of cuts all over her body.

Does this mean Judge van Dyk was molesting this pretty Asian, disabled girl who apparently he specifically picked out for adoption? Obviously it doesn’t prove anything. But apparently, it was okay to use this same sort of “evidence” against a indigent, severely disabled person to obtain a secret indictment, and demand a quarter million dollars bail?

And why wasn’t my wife also indicted for one of the numerous crimes described here? Did Christel have a right to educate the judge’s daughter or any other kids from the neighborhood with this sort of explicit material by making it readily available to all of them? Even if Judge van Dyk knew and didn’t mind, did any of the other parents know, or approve?

And most importantly, is there any sort of professional or official obligation on the part of Detective Marley to take the book into evidence and check it for fingerprints, finding an explicit book of pornography in the bedroom of a thirteen-year-old girl while presumably investigating a sex crime.

There is another possible explanation about what happened that night we were all in bed together. Maybe her daughter knew absolutely nothing about nothing of what was going to happen. This is what I would like to believe.

Although there are other possibilities. And it may be those possibilities that explain why Christel first had me arrested, and then painted this less than flattering depiction of her older daughter, the victim, while I was being held by Washington County in solitary confinement (apparently because I was “so fast” and I had an alleged “dangerous marijuana addiction.” I wondered, did Washington County Sheriff Gordon get this idea from the government’s 1937 propaganda movie, “Reefer Madness?” Or did he get it from Lard Larson?

Over the past four years, Christel had painted dozens of paintings for school. Yet, for her senior art project she decided to submit a painting she just finished called “Doppelganger” to the Portland Tribune of her oldest daughter. I would imagine her advisors at Marylhurst (Dennis, and John French), knew the background behind the young girl in the painting, yet apparently said nothing to discourage Christel from using it.

It would seem, at the very least, her Marylhurst advisors would have thought about protecting her daughter’s identity. Not to mention the obvious implication that the painting suggests to the viewer about the voracity of the subject, questioning the young lady’s character.

If you look, the painting clearly suggests to the viewer her daughter isn’t who she appears to be. I have always wondered what was Christel trying to say when she painted this, as the mother of this victimized child? And I’ve never questioned the fact that both girls had been victimized. Except, it wasn’t me who ever abused their virtue or innocence.

So what was she thinking about when she picked this painting? Was she worried about her daughter telling something else about what happened that night in bed, with her mom’s naked boyfriend.

The May 2005 Portland Tribune article was advertising the Marylhurst University Spring Art Festival to be held at the school Art Gym. The painting Christel picked out showed her daughter looking down into the water, with an obviously dishonest face looking back.

Ask yourself, why would any mother choose to publicly humiliate her daughter at this critical time in her life? I can certainly understand why Christel painted it when she did. I suspect she must have been feeling some tremendous guilt, knowing her deaf-blind husband was locked inside of a small cement room, while she remained free.

But what made Christel decide to publish this particular painting? Especially when you consider just a few weeks earlier, according to the State of Oregon (after obtaining a coerced plea bargain from me), her daughter was legally defined under the law as being a “child victim.” Yet, her mom’s painting clearly suggests that she is lying about something.

Maybe it’s because Christel knew her daughter was lying about what happened that night when her mom brought her into bed with her and her boyfriend?

Does the Pamplin Corporation or the Portland Tribune investigate any pictures or paintings it publishes simply for copyright reasons, if nothing else? Clearly they knew it was a painting of a young girl looking deceitful, for some reason.

Like the letter to Marley, was this another seed Christel was carefully planting to cover her tracks just in case her daughter decided to talk.

Maybe her oldest daughter knows that her mom had been using the girls to set me up, by leaving out a few important details, with a little help from her good friend, Judge van Dyk, who was coincidentally (and perhaps, conveniently) serving on the Clackamas County Domestic Violence Task Force.

While I realize that some of what follows is considered to be hear say’, there’s some good evidence to suggest Christel’s new friend may have tried to kill me in 2004 to cover up the true nature of their relationship. I’m not sure if what actually happened, and what could have easily happened, was intended, but I do know one thing.

Judge van Dyk’s 2004 campaign manager, Marcus Abrams is known to be an extremely shady lawyer. He works for the State of Oregon, protecting corrupt government workers. He is also a Jewish hack-writer for Blue Oregon (a far-left DemoCreep political web site).

Most independents, such as me, know Abrams, similar to the ADL and the SZLC, has a long history of being a “legal thug for the Creep Party” and the Jewish Community. He’s also a friend of Republican operative Rob Kramer, the creep from Clackamas County, who wrote the infamous advertising campaign, “Keep out the Creep Ad” for the election of the Clackamas County Chair, about keeping light rail and Portland out of Clackamas County. So I suspect, Abrams wouldn’t be beyond using the cops or the correction creeps to “take out” one of his party’s perceived political adversaries.

Maybe Christel and her younger daughter are lying about all of this, but here’s what happen in the fall of 2004, three months before I was indicted.

The West Linn Police were dispatched to Christel’s apartment. Apparently, a call was made shortly after midnight from the residence of Clackamas County Circuit Judge Douglas van Dyk to the West Linn Police which compelled two officers to go to my wife’s apartment and wake up her and the kids

This is according to Christel, and her youngest daughter who confirmed most of this to me later. Shortly after midnight two police officers from the West Linn Police Department showed up at her door with their guns drawn. She told me that the police told her Judge van Dyk had called them and said that he suspected her husband was molesting her oldest daughter in the apartment, and the police wanted to look around.

Despite that Christel and both of her daughters told the police I wasn’t there, they insisted on searching with their guns at ready.

Apparently,Christel must have turned off the ringer when she went to bed, and the Judge claimed his daughter was unable to reach Christel’s older daughter, and they became concerned for her safety.

What is most revealing about this incident, is that Christel said the police didn’t know I was blind. Can you imagine if I had stayed over night at my wife’s apartment, which I had every legal right to do, and came wandering out of the bedroom to see what was going on?

So imagine, the police walk into this apartment at night where a young girl is allegedly being molested by her step-father, according to a local circuit judge. And suddenly they see this guy wearing nothing but running shorts coming toward them. He looks like he’s on some kind of drugs (because he’s completely blind). And despite that they have their guns pointed at the man’s chest, he’s still very quickly coming toward them.

How do you suppose the police would react to this scenario? Was Judge van Dyk (and his friend and former-campaign manager Marc Abrams) setting up my murder that night, by calling the police?

And consider this, it was only a month or so away from the November election. So don’t you think Judge van Dyk would have consulted with his campaign manager over something as serious as this, calling the police on a suspected child molester? And who know, maybe they agree that it was a great political opportunity.

Why in hell would he tell the police that he suspected I was there at that moment molesting my step-daughter? This is outrageous, that a circuit judge can get away with this, but he did. And the elite almost always do.

The alleged investigation that Marley was conducting had to do with an alleged incident that happened three years earlier. But the Judge never told the police, or didn’t bother to find out. The judge should have also known his position of authority would automatically trigger an aggressive response from the police, especially when it involves the possible molestation of a young girl.

Was it really because his daughter couldn’t get through on the phone, or was it himself who couldn’t get through to Christel? Seems like a pretty extreme reaction to call the police, especially coming from a sitting circuit judge who had absolutely no evidence, doesn’t it?

Since then, have Abrams and van Dyk been using their influence to cover up the judge’s over reaction by getting the Portland police or others from the correction department to harass me? And For awhile, They seem to want to make me look crazy by constantly electrocuting me with low level frequencies, tampering with my computers, stealing my mail, and vandalizing my property.

Since the judge had brought my step-daughter home from his house just a few hours earlier, it doesn’t seem likely that his adopted daughter would be overly concerned about not getting through on the phone at this late hour, on a school night? Especially, since they were all sleeping.

Why didn’t Judge van Dyk bother to tell the police that the accused man had a significant visual impairment? Several of Christel’s E mails to my PSU account suggested he knew a lot about our family,and our struggles. In one E mail she wrote that she believed the judge may be manipulating the criminal investigation against me.

Although, curiously, she always referred to him in her E mails as “Judge van Daggot.” She said it was based on his pointy nose and how it reminded her of the character in that comic strip. Obviously, I have no way to know what the judge or the cartoon looks like, but it would be curious to see if someone agrees that this observation from Christel is accurate, since it would seem to add some credibility to her other allegations of tampering in these other cases.

As further evidence of the judge’s familiarity with our family and my blindness, he invited my step-daughter to a September 2004 campaign rally held at his West Linn home. Christel’s said they made a video featuring her daughter, this young female victim that the “good judge” was assisting. Guess who else was there?

Around this same time I suspect Judge van Dyk or Marc Abrams got the county’s child protective scum to come after me. A few years later they went after the mother of a murdered girl, after the police were blamed for botching the case. And the same agency rubber-stamped the ongoing child abuse being committed by Jennifer and Sarah Hart, until they murdered the six adopted African-American children in their care.

In the 2023 book, “We were once a family,” Roxanna Asgarian wrote, “In 2013 they left town, heading wet to a suburb of Portland. They framed the move to friends as a new chapter in a progressive town where they wouldn’t be hounded by conservative people who didn’t understand their lesbian relationship or their six black children.”

The Hart’s had already assaulted one of the children in Minnesota, when they found themselves under investigation for depriving their stolen children of food as punishment, and it was obvious to anyone who had vision the children were being slowly starved to death, they were given a free pass by Clackamas County Protective Services and the State of Oregon simply because they were progressive lesbians.

At a BLM rally for Michael Brown, a pic of one of the murdered children went viral. The pic showed Portland Police Officer Brett Barnum hugging a tearful Devonte Hart, who was very upset about something. But this white police officer didn’t bothered to ask why he was crying or investigate why this twelve-year-old boy looked like he was seven or eight. he was clearly suffering from food depravation because his fake mothers were slowly starving him and his siblings to death, but this Portland police officer and Clackamas County CPS apparently didn’t notice that all six of the Hart children were being deprived of food.

Asgarian writes, “Death at the hands of another, other than by accident, is a legal term. But what is drugging your family and driving them off a cliff, if not murder!”

In 2004, this same protective anti-child scum sent my bisexual wife a letter telling her I was no longer legally permitted to visit my son because I was under investigation by Washington County. They had no legal right to say this. We ignored the letter and I continued to regularly visit him at Christel’s apartment that fall, and I also watched him at my Lake Oswego apartment when she was in class. This arrangement continued until the Beaverton Police falsely arrested me in early January of 2005.

As the next two chapters in this book describes, two years later the State of Oregon would formally end all possibilities of me ever having a healthy relationship with my son while he was a minor. And this is exactly what the State of Texas did to the two mothers of the six Hart children.

When her daughter knocks and she answers the door, instead of taking her back to her room, Christel gently grabs her daughter by the hand and pulls her into our room, putting her finger to her lips while pointing toward me, who appears to be asleep, as the camera continues to roll.

Then she and her daughter climb into the bed, and Christel quickly helps her daughter undressed. A few minutes later Christel begins to touch me. She is hoping I will also start touching her, although she hasn’t exactly decided what she wants to happen…she thinks ‘we’ll just play it by ear’.

As she’s touching me, she becomes more and more aroused thinking about it. She begins to lean forward so her daughter can see exactly what she’s doing, like they talked about.

And maybe, as she’s touching me, and watching her daughter watch what she’s doing, she starts to imagine how many different ways the two of them can have sex with me, similar to one of the threesome fantasies Christel and I talked about.

She’s really hoping I would start touching her. And if her daughter weren’t there with us, that’s what I would have done. But I didn’t.

And maybe the real reason I didn’t dare start touching Christel was because sub-consciously I knew she would have lost control of all of her sexual inhibitions. And then all Christel’s pretences about pretending that she was a responsible mother would be gone!

So as we’re all laying there in bed together, maybe the older daughter is watching her mother touch me and still feeling a little shy. But she can’t stop watching! I’m blind, and I don’t know she’s watching. So she thinks it doesn’t matter if she’s watching what her mom’s doing.

Earlier that evening after Christel gives her younger daughter some Benadryl, her older daughter and her are alone, sipping wine and talking about sex, as I know Christel sometimes like to do.

So maybe during one of these semi-private conversation the older daughter feels buzzed and tells her mother a little about what she’s feeling, sexually, ever since how it felt on the couch. And she bravely tells her mom that she once thought about what it would be like to “do it” with me. Her mother tells her to never be embarrassed by these thoughts and feelings.

And maybe Christel jokingly tells her daughter that she agrees with her taste in men. She tells her this is perfectly normal for a young, maturing woman to have these sort of sexual desires and fantasies about her mom’s boyfriend, like her and her first husband Richard did. Richard Wolff is the father of Christel’s younger daughter.

maybe Christel is thinking, by telling her daughter this, it will help encourage her daughter to experiment with me, sexually, and thinks about maybe giving her a valium and letting her stay home from school one day.

As Christel is touching me, and her daughter is watching, and they are both pretending that the daughter’s not watching, Christel begins to think about how her own mother, would sometimes watch her out of the corner of her eye from across the room, while some sick male friend of a friend of her mother’s was having his way with her at some acid party!

The experience gives her a warm, tingly feeling of togetherness, as she watches her daughter watching her fingers sliding round and round.

Once wile I was spending the night at Christel’s duplex in Springfield, Oregon, I remember hearing the girls laying in the hallway, bumping up against their mom’s bedroom door one night.

Despite my blindness, whenever I walked upstairs at night I could tell Christel had this massive bright light in the hallway turned on. And now that I think about it, there was probably a lot more light shining under the door and lighting up the bedroom than I knew.

I asked, “Christel, do you hear the girls in the hallway, listening?” It made me nervous, hearing the sound of their voices so close, since we were completely naked and uncovered, and had done all sorts of things together and had already made love before I noticed the light shining under the door.

She said, “Don’t worry they can’t see anything.”

The next morning I felt the door and discovered there was at least a three or four inch gap between the floor and the bottom of the door. The foot of the mattress, which was laying on the floor near the door, must have been fairly visible to anyone who was looking under the door because of the bright light behind them.

In fact, I would imagine the youngest daughter’s head could have probably fit part way under the door, if she wanted to get a “better look!”

I wondered how Christel couldn’t have noticed this huge gap. And I probably should have wondered why she didn’t get out of bed and cover it up when I told her about my concerns about our need for privacy.

Did one of her boyfriends and her intentionally cut the bottom of the door? So the girls could get a better view?

Christel didn’t care that both of them may have been watching us from about two or three feet away, and very likely vicariously watched me perform cunnilingus on their mother.

I suspect it may have been the older daughter’s idea, but truthfully, I don’t know.

One other time in Springfield, I thought I heard the girls climb out of their mom’s bedroom closet in the middle of the night and quietly sneak out of the room. So I suppose it also wouldn’t surprise me if they were hiding in there once again, secretly watching everything we were doing.

So anything’s possible, including that her daughter may have not been wearing any clothes when she climbed into the bed with us.

If she wasn’t already naked, Christel could have planned it this way where she gets her to quickly slip off her pajamas. Like the first time Christel got her and her sister to get naked and jump into the tub with us. For the record, I was always wearing swimming trunks or running shorts when the girls were around, other than this one night in bed.

Earlier that fall, me and Christel were in the tub together. It was kind of tight since it was a normal size tub made for one person. I remember she yells out to the livingroom, “Come on girls, get naked and get in with us!”

A few seconds later the younger daughter runs into the bathroom and eagerly strips off her clothes and jumps in.

Then about a half minute later, the older girl comes into the bathroom, and despite her mom’s encouragement, she says “I don’t want to, mom.”

Christel then firmly orders her to take off her clothes and get in the tub with us.

A moment later, I think I hear her take off her clothes. Then she slips into the water between me and her little sister. As she slips past, I feel her naked thigh brush against my leg.

Wouldn’t you think most young girls, being put in a compromising position such as this by their own mother would say, “I’m not going to get naked and get in that tub with you and your boyfriend!” and scream something like, “Are you crazy mother!”

But instead, there seemed to be a silent, secret message exchanged between them — some sort of agreement, that made it impossible for her daughter to object in any way at such an outrageous request from her own mother.

With a certain look, was her mother saying something like, ‘Remember, I know… You told me? So you better do what I’m telling you to do.’

The older daughter silently complies, and takes off all of her clothes, including her panties, and slowly climbs in the tub with us.

So each time Christel rubbed me that night, would if she also ran the tips of her fingers across her daughter’s new peach fuzz, and then across the lips of her daughter’s exposed vagina. Then she gently tickles her. Her daughter shyly smiles, thinking her mom is only teasing her about being naked, and in the bed with us, exactly as they joked about doing, earlier.

But just maybe Christel is secretly hoping her daughter will become pregnant, without knowing how it happened.

The daughter believes her mom is only teasing her when she touches her, since after all, she is secretly in bed, naked, with her mom’s hot new boyfriend, who is also naked! Very exciting for a young girl, she thinks to herself, not realizing her mother is trying to impregnate her.

Or maybe, her daughter knows exactly what her mom is doing, and is letting her mother do this, as they agreed, while they’re both hoping she will become pregnant.

I know it all sounds crazy, but since Christel just learned she herself was pregnant and more horny than ever, I can tell you that around this time her boundaries were even lower than usual. So maybe Christel, or both of them, decide it would be really, really exciting if they could both have a baby together with me as the sperm donor.

All four of us were really giddy when we found out Christel was pregnant, and after that, that’s all we ever talked about, having a baby around and what it would be like.

“Can you imagine what fun it would be, if we were both pregnant with Don’s baby! maybe She jokingly tells her curious daughter one night, who is just beginning to bloom. She laughs about it, not knowing her mother is intentionally planting a dangerous seed in her mind.

There may be some important facts about the family that have attributed to this sort of thinking. For example, along with her second daughter’s father, Richard Wolff, several of Christel’s mom’s boyfriends later became her lovers, including her first and third husband.

And the sister, Brenda, of her previous boyfriend, Rick, was once married to Christel’s first husband, Richard, making Rick’s two boys her youngest daughter’s cousins, which I think would make Rick the great uncle or maybe the second cousin of Christel’s youngest daughter? It gets real confusing, the more you know.

Just so it’s clear, the older daughter is not related to Rick’s boys by blood. Since it’s very possible that before Christel and I met there may have been something sexual going on between one of the boys and the oldest daughter.

Maybe this has something to do with the crazy cycle Christel told me she wanted to brake, when she decided to get me for threatening to expose her.

She had just dropped me off at my Lake Oswego apartment when I had finally lost my temper. I had been steaming all day.

Christel, without telling me, had suddenly decided to begin weaning our son the day before. I knew right away it was only because she wanted her breast to fill with milk before she had her Ford Foundation picture taken (apparently for the horny wealthy men who use these pics from organizations like this to select their next mistress, or bimbo, or another “coerced” intern).

She asked me to spend the night. Abraham screamed all night, crying and begging for his mother’s milk, but she never gave in, as you can see from the pic! And if this wasn’t enough, Christel even had the mordacity to mention something in one of her letters to the DA or Marley about how I had embarrassed her by not shaving for the Ford Foundation graduation Luncheon.

So let’s say the older daughter has no idea what her mom did, getting her pregnant when she briefly tickled her didi that night while she was falling asleep. But she notices her pants don’t fit as well and she is starting to put on a little weight waiting for her first period.

Then Christel secretly starts giving her pregnancy tests under some other pretense, saying it’s for a drug test instead, and gets her to pea in a cup. Once Christel gets a positive test, she tells the police that she thinks I am the father, and shows them the stained panties she found.

I am arrested, and when the baby is born, the test prove she was right, with only one reasonable explanation as to how it happened!

But about two months later, when she realizes that her daughter isn’t pregnant, she comes up with another plan, and waits for her daughter to start ovulating.

I have no way of really knowing until its too late when this crazy stuff is going to happen, and often found myself in these odd, uncomfortable situations with her and her naked daughters, in the tub, the bed, or once when I was sitting on the couch.

It was probably what had happened that afternoon on the couch, in the fall of 2001. However, Christel later realized that she had crossed the line. Which is probably what motivated her to start thinking about getting some insurance. Or maybe at least, getting some dirt on me to cover her ass!

It was in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday when it all began. I now believe Christel, and maybe someone else, may have encouraged the girls to take off their clothes, then take turns jumping on my lap, facing me. When it happened they wrapped their legs around my thighs, and wrapped their arms around my neck and “held on tight.

“Hold on as long as you can girls, no matter what!”

Maybe their mom, or someone else says to them, “I think we need to test Don, to make sure you girls are safe around him. What do you think about this idea?” And they agree.

And maybe she says, “I’ll be right here, just in case, but let’s see if he tries anything with you sitting on his lap, if he thinks I’m not watching.” And maybe she tells them, “That’s why we need the camera, in case we need to prove it later.”

And to get them more motivated, maybe she also says something like, “How about if we make it a contest, and see who can stay on his lap the longest. I wonder how long he’ll let you sit there before he makes you get off. It’ll be so funny, won’t it!” They agree and laugh!

Except, since the older daughter’s hormones have recently begun to awaken, and she has begun growing fresh hair just above her didi, her body becomes even more excited than her much younger sister by the idea. The idea of sitting on the lap of their mom’s boyfriend wile their completely naked.

“Remember girls, there’s no audio, so you don’t need to make any sounds. Just take turns, and stay on his lap as long as you can. And hold on tight and try not to let go.” And they both nod their heads in agreement.

Imagine if you were the producer filming this and writing the script:
“Honey, you need to take off your underwear too. I promise, we won’t show your face while you’re pretending. And don’t forget, when this all comes out you’re both gonna be movie stars, like your Aunt Raymie!” They jump up and down, agreeing to take off their clothes.

In order to get the best shot of their naked bottoms, the producer places the camera on the floor about five or six feet away, directly across from the center of the couch. and would if the sports moron from ESPN wasn’t joking and the camera is built into the television, which makes you think about canceling your cable subscription, doesn’t it?

He tells the mother to stay behind the camera, so it appears she isn’t home while this is going on.

After turning off the audio, the camera is turned on and the younger girl is given a pre-arranged hand signal to begin.

From this angle, the viewer can only see the back of the girls’ heads and their naked butts as they are running toward the couch.
Each takes a turn jumping onto the lap of a (extremely good looking) grown man sitting on the couch. From this view, each of them can be seen bouncing their naked butts up and down with their arms and legs wrapped around him.

And while the man is leaning back and trying to pull their arms from around his neck, they are leaning their heads back toward the camera, the viewer can see that by doing this they are forcing even more direct contact between their bottoms and the man’s crotch, which excites the viewer even more.

The film is deliberately slowed way down by the producer, making every movement appear even more sensual and deliberate. From time-to-time the film pauses and zooms in for five or ten seconds (at the “perfect” moment).

The viewer can’t tell whether or not the man has an erection or whether or not the fly of these skimpy shorts he’s wearing is open or closed. Although the angle of the camera from time-to-time provides the viewer a good shot at most of the girls’ exposed bottoms, including a few of the older girl’s fuzzy little pubic hairs.

From this angle the camera doesn’t really show if he’s actually having vaginal intercourse in this extremely intimate position with either of the girls. Although the viewer can tell both of them are completely naked, slowly bouncing around on his lap, creating the impression that maybe there’s something going on, especially with the older one.

the viewer doesn’t know the man is blind. So it appears as though he’s wearing shades to hide his identity from the camera while fooling around with these two young girls. And one of them appears to be only about six!

The older girl appears as though, and behaves in a way to suggest, she is not a virgin. The eager viewer concludes from her behavior and her rounder butt and pubic hairs she has most likely been sexually active prior to the filming of this scene.

At first, she seems shy and unsure of herself, then a few moments later she’s seen leaning back and aggressively pushing her bottom into him, while she’s passionately laughing about it! Because of the slow motion effect, the scene goes on and on.

Then, in what is the final moment the older girl is seen collapsing against the man, in total exhaustion, burying her face into his neck.

To the viewer, who is watching intently (and maybe masturbating), the film creates the appearance that the older girl and the adult male have been having sexual intercourse , exactly as the producer intended.

Any reasonable person, like a jury, would have to ask how could a mother let her daughters sit naked on any man’s lap with their legs spread wide apart, and wrapped around the man’s thighs? It was probably similar to being in stirrups at the Gynecologist’s, receiving a vaginal exam.

Was their mommy using me and my “stethoscope” on this lazy Saturday afternoon to play doctor?

It seems strange that a mother who would sometimes mercifully beat her daughters with a wooden spoon for almost anything, wouldn’t react violently over what they were doing.

For example, there was this one time when Christel, me, and her youngest daughter were shopping at the Wallmart’s on Beaverton Highway. When Christel grabbed a pack of wooden spoons off the shelf, her daughter began screaming, hysterically.


I listened to Christel and her daughter wrestling for control over the bag of spoons. I wondered if anyone was watching. They must have wondered why this little girl, who was barely six-years-old was panicking over her mom buying a bag of wooden spoons.

What would a jury think if I had ever been given a chance to tell them about the wooden spoons, and their mom’s absolute control over the girls.

Given all of this, is it reasonable for me to think, their mother had to know by sitting on my lap in this way it would force the lips of their exposed vaginas to open even further, forcing more intimate contact between our private parts? Is that what she wanted?

Much like she said her own mother did with her and her sister, getting the girls to do exactly what Christel wanted wasn’t unusual, sexual or not.

For example, around 2004 she had each of the girls throw the gold wedding band and the diamond engagement ring I gave her into the Willamette River, somewhere down by Oregon City.

This is why I suspect Christel was responsible for this incident. She was often so easily able to get them to do these crazy things, like taking off all of their clothes and jumping in the tub with us.

As I recall, one of the photos in the book of pornography the girls carefully studied showed this exact same position. The woman was facing the man and sitting on his lap, having sex, while he was sitting on a love seat.

I will confess, and Christel knows, this is one of my favorite ways to make love to a woman. And I would say it’s the most intimate position a man and woman could assume. How could their mother not see how this looked?

What made sitting with the girls in this way even worse was that I was born with what I once heard from a partner unscientifically called a “frontal mount.”

This is very personal to talk about, but important to understanding the situation.

Apparently, according to my partner, a frontal mount means my scrotum, which includes the penis and testicles, is located slightly more forward than what is considered to be normal for most men.

For this reason, not only does it cause the tip of my penis to protrude more than usual, especially when I’m aroused, when I sit down to urinate I have to constantly push the tip down so I don’t spray myself.

And if I’m wearing clothes, apparently sometimes it appears (perhaps, to the wishful mind) as though I have an erection when in fact I don’t!

I was sitting on the couch carefully listening to some fakeball game when the girls took off their clothes and began to take turns jumping on my lap, as their mother sat a few feet across from me (and perhaps, video taping all of it).

And who knows, maybe after showing the police this suggestive video she tells them she wasn’t home when it happened.

She says, she kind of remembers when it happened. But after coming home from school she must have turned off the surveillance camera and then started making dinner, and completely forgot to watch it, until now.

Although, I would think an unedited video would have clearly shown I had no part in planning, encouraging, or participating in any of what went on.

This reminds me of the case involving Father Israel Bein, who was filming alter boys in his Sherwood Church bathroom, urinating. After one of the underage victims and his father found the hidden camera, they gave it to Father Bein, and then it disappeared.

First, the Arch Bishop of Oregon, Alexander Sample, ignored the situation, by allowing this priest to have access to his alleged victims (he was apparently filming).

Sample should have known, merely by his presence the priest could intimidate or coerce them into saying nothing.

Then Father Bein could say to the worried parents, “See, there’s nothing to this.”

After thirty-three days Arch Bishop Sample, who is curiously also from Michigan, finally suspended Father Bein. However, Alexander didn’t bother to tell police the priest was planning to leave the country to visit sick relatives, until after he left.

The Washington County DA, Bob Hermann, who unfairly prosecuted me, intentionally protected this Filipino priest, by first not taking his passport when he was caught lying to the parents, and then by only charging him with a misdemeanor which meant he wouldn’t be pursued by the FBI.

I have to wonder, was Christel being paid by someone with some connections to the catholic church or the Washington County’s DA Office to produce child porn while she was living in Beaverton?

Was Christel part of a wealthy pedophile ring that looks for young, attractive women with children to produce child pornography?

When we met Christel told me she was a “woodland nymp,” but I didn’t know what she meant, or think about it. I realize now that she was trying to tell me that she was a nymphomaniac. And apparently, was training her daughters to also be “woodland nymps” when we met.

Here’s the other interesting part of this story. Both my wife and her mother had converted to Catholicism when she was a teenager, living in Ohio. Christel said she converted when her mother was living with this catholic guy named Scott for a couple years, who she said her sister and she really hated (because he was so strict).

Many times she talked about all the different things her and her sister would do to get Scott and her mother to break up, which eventually worked.

Christel also talked about how her mother had once had an extended affair with a Jesuit Priest. It was weird, but I could almost hear the excitement in her voice when she talked about it. At that moment, I wondered if she was sleeping with a Jesuit priest, or the same Jesuit priest as her mom? It wouldn’t be the first time that Christel and her mom shared the same man.

According to Dr. E. Michael Jones from Culture Wars Magazine, the Catholic Church has been taken over by the Jesuits. “This is why today there are so many homosexual and promiscuous priests in the Catholic Church. The Jesuits are Jews, posing as catholics, ” Dr. Jones told his FFWN audience in 2024.”

One day in 2001, after dropping me off at this costume store in Eugene (because Christel decided to keep her $350 costume and say it was stolen, forfeiting her $35 deposit).

After dropping me off, she went to Father Marks office at St. Mary’s, where I met her a little while later. As she privately spoke with Father Marks, I waited in the outside office with her younger daughter, and a dozen pink roses I had picked up. I could tell she was very upset that day, although she wouldn’t tell me why.

I don’t know if this had anything to do with it, but I learned about a week or two later from Christel that Father Scott from St. Mary’s had been transferred by Father Marks to a parish in Beaverton. At the time, I hadn’t made the connection, and why she needed to speak with Father Marks.

Then, around this same time, Christel told me she was dropping out of the University of Oregon, and would loose a year’s worth of credit hours! Apparently, she decided to transfer to Marylhurst University, which she said was a catholic school located just south of Portland.

The exact relationship between Father Scott’s transfer, and her own sudden transfer to Marylhurst, and then both of them ending up in Beaverton, is not exactly clear, although it’s obviously not just a big fat coincidence.

Rather than moving any where near Marylhurst University, which was located half way across Clackamas County, Christel got an apartment in Washington County. The apartment was located in Beaverton, just down the street and around the corner from Father Scott’s new parish. Of all the luck!

Not to mention, her “ex-boyfriend,” Rick, had also recently moved to Beaverton, and was coincidentally, also now studying computer science in Portland (just like me).

Earlier that summer, shortly after I had given her a diamond engagement ring, I could never get a hold of her. She admitted, she had turned off the ringer and that her and Rick had been together. When I asked her more about it, she explained it in this way.

She said on the night of July 3rd he came to her duplex in Springfield while she was sleeping. Then she claimed, since he still had a key, he came in to her bedroom and “raped her.”

Then the following day, as if nothing had happened, she and her girls went with him and his sister, and their kids, to a 4th of July fireworks display in Springfield.

When I learned about it a couple days later, I encouraged her to file charges against him, she started saying that it wasn’t rape, but more that he had pressured her in to giving him a “farewell fuck”!

Then shortly after she moved to Beaverton, one morning we found a note on her car that she said was from Rick. After she refused to read the note to me, or let me make a copy of it, we got into a argument and broke up.

and so, because of how much she was afraid of me, she decided to have Rick stay with her a couple nights. She said she had him sleep on the couch the entire time and they never did anything sexual (unlike the last time he showed up at her bedroom door).

When we got back together, a week or so later, she told me that she had decided to throw away her birth control pills. I found them in the bathroom trash, right where she said they would be. And surprise, surprise, about a month later we found out she was pregnant with what she said was my child.

While I don’t know for sure if there was anybody encouraging the girls to do all these sexual things around me, and sometimes with me, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that either Father Scott or Rick were deeply involved in all of this subterfuge. Here’s why.

It all began that afternoon when the younger daughter came running down the hall, running right past her mother, and hopped on my lap. She tightly wrapped her arms and legs around me and grabbed my neck. As I was pealing her hands away, she began leaning back, which caused her to grind her butt into me.

We struggled, as she continued to laugh. Then I pulled her hands free and lifted her into the air, just as the older daughter, who was also completely naked, unexpectedly came running down the hall.

As I sat back down, her mother may have giggled but said nothing to reprimand her younger daughter after I pulled her off my lap, as her older daughter ran past her mom and unexpectedly jumped on to my lap, falling forward against me.

Instinctively, as I sat up I reached out to grab her so she wouldn’t fall backwards. As my hands fell across her back side, my conscious brain suddenly realized she was also naked, and I quickly let go.

In that first instant, when my hands briefly touched her bare bottom, I became aware her butt and hips were a lot more round than I realized. She wasn’t the little girl I had imagined.

A part of me has to wonder, because I’m blind, if she simply wanted me to see how beautiful she was becoming.

You would be surprised how often women will push their bodies up against me, or just come right out and ask me if I “want to see what they look like?” And sometimes, they don’t even ask, just grab my hands and place them on their body.

Throughout these writings I have tried to offer evidence of how many times I could have been a willing participant in these crazy sex games. And it’s true, when the girls weren’t involved I often did, like the time in Eugene, when Christel and me rented a tandem bike and pulled off the bike trail into the woods for a quickie, as people were walking and riding bye.

And it wasn’t always overtly sexual. One evening in the summer of 2001, we took her blue Dotson to Autson Stadium. Christel, and the girls from the back seat, all screamed, as I raced the little car back and forth across the empty parking lot, at full speed.

I could have kept my hands on her bottom and started wrestling with her. Objecting to her being on my lap, while moving her into a “better position.”

Instead, back here in reality, instantly both of my hands dropped to my side. I remember looking in the direction of her mother, and giving her a questioning look, like, ‘What’em I supposed to do now’? Since it was obvious, her determined daughter wasn’t going to get off my lap.

As a healthy male, you can bet a secret signal was instantly sent to another part of my brain about what was happening. However, in those first few moments I know my conscious brain completely ignored any thoughts of having a naked pre-teenage girl (and her round naked butt) firmly sitting on my lap, facing me, with her legs wrapped around my thighs!

From the beginning, I mistakenly thought it would be best to just ignore the problem until it went away, or her mother yelled at her, like she usually did. Then sometimes she would start screaming and chase them around the apartment with the wooden spoon.

When I knew the girls were deliberately doing something to annoy me, I would tell Christel. But it didn’t take long to realize waiting for her mother to tell her to “STOP!” wasn’t going to work this time.

As most people know, long before the breast begin to develop, a young girl’s bottom and hips will begin to fill out. This is the first sign that her body is entering into womanhood, and potential motherhood. And as we all should know becoming a mother only takes a split second of direct contact between one single sperm and the female egg while she’s ovulating, even for some ten or eleven-year-olds girls.

A chemical signal is sent out to every sperm in the neighborhood during ovulation, instructing it as to how to find the waiting egg. And if the genitals of one or both participants are exposed, they may have no way to stop this natural biological process from occurring, once their genitals make contact.

Since the older daughter had already developed clear visible signs, such as pubic hair, there’s a small possibility she would ovulate any day, when this incident on the couch took place.

If true, and it sure seems like there’s no way Christel couldn’t have noticed her daughter’s new pubic hair. It should have been obvious to the mother of this developing young pre-teenage girl the risk she was letting her daughter take. By placing her naked, maturing vagina so close to, or touching, the barely covered penis of a healthy, fertile male.

At first, her naked butt was sitting on my bare thighs. And it was slightly closer to my knees then my crotch. And her arms and legs were loosely draped around my neck.

In truth, believe it or not, it wasn’t a total shock to find Christel’s older daughter this way. Although it was a little embarrassing, especially since she was facing me and I could feel her uncovered bottom sitting on my legs. Not to mention, this entire time her knees were wrapped partly around my waist, trapping me between her thighs.

If a mature woman had gotten naked and surprised her blind lover in this same way, you would have to agree this entire scene would be incredibly romantic and sexy!

Is this why her mother laughed? Because she thought it was so cute?

Not to make excuses, but seeing someone’s face does really matter in the spur of the moment. Sighted people would tell you that seeing is always an advantage, but I can tell you that’s not true. But in those first moments, obviously it helps to have that additional information as the brain processes the situation and decides how to best react.

Imagine you were completely blind and your arm was suddenly grabbed by someone. The grip is tight and it may be a robber preparing to strike, and it’s more frightening because they’re saying nothing aloud, but instead it’s a deaf man who knows I’m lost and only wants to help.

At that instant, when you don’t know, do you fight or relax. It’s not so easy to decide anything quickly and know how to best respond when you’re completely blind. No matter who you are, you have to first gather enough information to know what’s best.

For me, it was a true moment of cognizant dissidence, having a naked, friendly not so little female body sitting on my lap, facing me, with her naked legs wrapped part way around my thighs, and her arms wrapped around my neck.

Since I’m barely five foot seven, the older daughter’s bottom half wasn’t a whole lot different than some of the mature women I have known intimately. Before this, the older daughter and I had only hugged or once and awhile held hands. Christel would hold her younger daughter’s hand, while the older daughter would lead me around the mall or grocery store.

When we lived in Beaverton, the girls would often run around the house naked while their mother playfully scolded them. But until this one afternoon, I had never had any direct contact with either of them wile they weren’t wearing clothes, even though they often smacked my butt as they ran bye.

There was this one other time when for no reason they came and sat next to me while I was sitting on the couch listening to fake ball. There was one on each side of me. Then they began leaning into me, and I began to suspect they weren’t wearing clothes, although I never touched either of them.

Then a half minute later, they both burst out laughing and ran away. I can only imagine how that particular pic or video must have looked to Bob Hermann’s ruthless Grand Jury?

So now I have to wonder, was their mother also filming them while they were running around naked hoping just once I would reach out and touch them? Christel was a sort of amateur photographer and liked taking lots of pics, including her naked children in the tub.

There were lots of opportunities where I could have “accidentally,” or intentionally, picked them up and fondled the girls butts or didis, and who knows, maybe that’s what a part of them wanted. But I never did, other than this one afternoon on the couch, when I could feel their naked bottoms bouncing on my lap, and I can’t lie, I could definitely feel the older daughter,, perhaps without intention, pushing her naked didi up against me, although my first reaction was to ignore it.

Here’s the hard truth. Despite all the previous playfulness, from that very first instant when the older daughter decided (or was encouraged) to take off all of her clothes, including her underwear, and jump on my lap so I could “see” all of her, our relationship change.

When she first jumped on me and fell forward, with nothing more than a very thin piece of cloth separating our most private body parts, we must have briefly touched in that way. So while I tried to ignore it, and my brain tried to focus on the game, I suspect our bodies immediately knew. Subsequently, I suspect our bodies began to respond, physiologically.

As I said earlier, we know any amount of contact between the genitals of a male and female under the right circumstances can not only cause one or both of them to instantly become aroused, it can also result in the creation of a fertilized egg.

In fact, neither the male or the female need to be aroused, or the vagina completely entered, for the female to become pregnant.

If she were wearing clothes when this happened, and had jumped on my lap sideways, or only sat still, this wouldn’t be a real big deal, although certainly not appropriate for any young lady who was already entering puberty, and womanhood.

But instead, she first willingly took, or was encouraged to take, off every bit of her clothes, including her most private and protective piece of clothing, her panties!

Since I was wearing shorts, and had she been wearing at the very least underwear or swimming trunks, I’m sure it would have felt different then it did, sitting naked on my lap with her legs spread apart and our genitals bumping against each other. Even if I had inadvertently become a little aroused by the feel of her softness rubbing against me, it would seem very unlikely that any of my fluids, which are naturally released by the male body at the very start of any sign of being aroused, could have ever had even the slightest chance to enter her vagina and impregnate her, as her mother may have been hoping would happen.

She intentionally, or was encouraged to, place her exposed vagina against me in the most intimate way possible, as though her or her mother, or someone else, planned it this way. And a moment later, when she moved even closer and began pushing in or on to me, I discovered she wasn’t the shy little girl I had imagined, or at least not any more

From the beginning, it was obvious that our private parts were touching. So knowing her daughter was completely naked and I was only wearing a pair of very thin nylon shorts, why didn’t Christel do anything? And these running shorts could have already popped open one or more of its flimsy buttons while I was pulling the younger daughter off me

It’s also possible I could have had a small amount of dried semen on these shorts from the night before when Christel and I were making out on the couch.

Her mother should have put an end to it. She should have immediately pulled her off my lap. Instead Christel only made it worse by giggling at my obvious embarrassment and confusion.

I would imagine I must have looked completely dumbfounded when this was happening. And this apparently only made all of them laugh more.

A few moments later when I reach back to unhook her arms and lift the older, heavier daughter to her feet, she grabbed on to my neck a little tighter, sliding her bottom half closer. At the same time she leaned her head back, which pressed her lower half into me.

Despite that I was only wearing thin shorts, I know at this point our bodies were touching in the most intimate way possible, as her mom watched.

Perhaps inadvertently, at the moment the older daughter moved closer to me the opening of her completely naked, completely exposed, and possibly ovulating vagina was now resting directly over or against what was most likely the beginning of a small erection!

Based on her age and experience (which I’ll explain later), any of this sort of physical contact with almost any man (or teenage boy) would cause a young girl around this age to become aroused by the feel of a male penis touching the lips of her vagina.

And if we wanted to be completely honest, she probably began to feel aroused at the very moment she pulled off her panties and thought about exactly what she would do when it was her turn. Because of all these new raging hormones rushing through her over-sexualized body and mind, I would imagine the feeling of being naked and waiting for her turn would very likely cause her body to react physically.

So, to my surprise she didn’t get up, but just stayed right there with her arms wrapped around my neck, pressing her body against me. She was sitting on me in the most intimate way possible.

Until now I hadn’t thought much about her own physical or emotional reaction to what was happening, and what it likely meant, but here’s what I think happened.

I remember, her head and body swayed forward and back while she was struggling with me, tightening her grip around my neck and thighs, and laughing. At the same time, when she leaned her head back her bottom pushed into me forcing even more contact between us. Because of the way her legs were spread wide apart, it’s not surprising nothing good would come from this situation. Yet her mother said nothing, just kept giggling, and apparently watching out of the corner of her eye, as she promised she would do.

As I said, the only thing separating our most private body parts was a extremely thin piece of slightly damp, nylon cloth, which if I think about it, probably wouldn’t have felt much different than if I were naked.

Whenever she stopped moving, gravity and the downward pressure of her larger and rounder buttocks naturally forced me to begin to slide into the empty valley somewhere in between her fleshy bottom; Each time it seemed to draw me in further, as I felt her pushing down.

And as I began to feel her soft underside begin to firmly settle on to and around me, I tried even harder to pull her hands loose. I suppose, I was still expecting Christel to tell her to get off my lap! But she said nothing? Except to giggle more.

But there may have been something else going on in the oldest daughter’s mind at that moment. Something that she may not herself have consciously been aware of, regarding the natural desires of her quickly maturing female body-

Christel began a sexual relationship with her older daughter’s father, Frank, when she herself was still a young minor, around fourteen or fifteen. Christel claimed the reason Frank had never found another girlfriend his own age, or any other girlfriend, was because of his obsession over having had a girlfriend [her] who was almost fifteen or twenty years younger than him.

Christel also told me that several years later, while they were sharing an apartment in Roseburg, she came home unexpectedly and caught Frank having sex with an inflatable doll he owned.

She never told me, and I didn’t think to ask, but I have to wonder where their daughter was when this happened? It may explain why Christel kept her older daughter away from Frank for most of her younger life.

In the age of sexual equality, we shouldn’t consider a man’s right to pleasure themselves, privately, to be any different than any woman who chooses to lay in her bed and pleasure herself with a vibrator, dildo, or her own hand, while no one other than the NSA can watch, through one of those low energy light bulbs that weigh about two pounds. Or one of those low energy shower heads that weigh about four pounds. Or some other electronic device that happens to be in the room, like an alarm clock, radio, television, cell phone, or even the paint on the wall.

Yet simply because males usually leave behind physical evidence that can be easily stolen, where females do not, we publicly threaten men who choose to pleasure themselves with blindness and endless ridicule, or something worse.

Simply because a male’s private parts are external, and therefore exposed during urination, where a female’s parts are hidden, we punish men for urinating outside. And then we put them on this Nazi death list with most of the local “cripple” men, where Florida Ron, and the neighborhood psychopath-vigilantes, and a few of these “neighborhood watch weirdo’s, can legally torture them to death, while the police and DA look the other way!

Her father, Frank had always been single since I knew him, and I knew he had a young daughter who was apparently beginning to bloom, coming over and sleeping next to him on the floor.

Given all I’ve been through, is it fair for me to ask, what else would Frank do to fulfill his own harty sexual appetite, especially after a couple beers?

I would argue, that if anything like this ever did happen between the older daughter and any of the males in her life at the time, it would be a pretty strong motivation why they might want to secretly encourage the oldest daughter to try to have sex with me, and then report me to the police.

One of Frank’s close friends, named Michael who liked wearing an elf’s costume around Eugene. Just after we met, he admitted to me in 2000 that he had been “convicted” of molesting a male child a few years earlier. And when I asked, Christel said she knew about it.

So, despite Michael’s previous conviction and odd costumes, once on our way to Roseburg Christel decided that it would be okay to drop her oldest daughter off for the weekend at this abandon elementary school along I-5 where Frank was staying. Then when we were pulling out, Christel told me she could see Michael through her rear view mirror coming from around the corner, dressed in an elf suit.

Apparently, Frank’s friend and his parents owned the abandon elementary school and were living there at the time. So I have to wonder, if Frank had ever left her alone with Michael when he took a shower or dump? Or did he just take her into the shower or bathroom with him? I know she didn’t mind being naked in the tub with me and her mom.

Then there was Christel’s previous boyfriend, Rick, who I mentioned earlier and who she said had a “serious porn problem.” She said he also had two (obviously well-educated, horny) teenage boys who apparently had access to all of their dad’s pornography.

Before Christel and I became engaged in the summer of 2001, she told me Rick and his boys would often stay over night at the Springfield duplex. She also told me that there was always lots of explicit sexual material laying around Rick’s trailer, which was parked up the street at his sister’s house on Lawnridge. Obviously, there was always lots of porn available for the boys to “borrow” while their dad was busy upstairs.

Do you suppose a teenage boy, who spends his free time looking at his dad’s pornography, might want to experiment with a young girl, who coincidentally, wants to experience the sexual freedom that her mother and grandmother enjoy.

So after the younger girl falls asleep, who knows what went on downstairs, under the blankets.

When we first started seeing each other, Christel almost always gave her youngest daughter Benadryl in the evenings. The younger daughter was very hyper-active. So that’s why she said, “It’s to give me some peace of mind,” but it may have also been to give everyone else some freedom and sexual privacy in the evenings.

It’s easy to imagine that while Christel and Rick were upstairs, there may have been some experimenting going on downstairs, after the youngest (and sometimes, the most annoying) sibling fell asleep.

When I began staying over night at her Springfield duplex, I noticed the girls would often spread a blanket out in front of the TV and fall asleep watching a movie while Christel and I stayed up stairs. So when Rick stayed over, I’m sure all of the kids figured out pretty quickly that no adults would be checking on them until morning, and all of them could safely explore their own sexual curiosities, if they wanted.

And it’ would be hard to believe that one or both of Rick’s boys wouldn’t have some interest in Christel’s older, sexually-curious daughter, who she often described as being “very pretty.”

I’m no expert on what happens to the anatomy of young girls who are only nine or ten-year-old and are having sexual intercourse, once or twice a month for almost a year with boys a few years older. But I know almost all women will become more accessible the more often they have intercourse. For most females who are in a consensual relationship, this means the vagina will naturally become moist and begin to dilate when they are first aroused, regardless of the man’s size or their own previous experience.

Writing about all of this reminds me of Beverly Marsh, an eleven-year-old female character in Stephen King’s book, “It.”

In chapter 22 of this book King describes how this victim of incest, who is being repeatedly raped by her father Mike Marsh, decided to have sexual intercourse with each of her six male companions. This is done to help the boys focus, so they can escape from the underground tunnels of Dairy and save Beverly’s “helpless ass,” according to King

King’s eleven-year-old protagonist, Beverly, is able to do “it” with six boys in a row. And she did this without pain or lubricant (other than perhaps a little “Luger Marquise”).

Regardless of age, chapter 22 suggests the normal female body and mind is able to easily handle multiple sexual partners, both physically and emotionally. While I’m sure there are some mature women who can, and do, enjoy this sort of sexual freedom, since Beverly is only Eleven, you have to wonder what Stephen was thinking about.

And since Stephen King and his creepy Jewish publishers didn’t say this, I will. All teenage boys who happen to find themselves in this circumstance should immediately realize this is a red flag that something’s wrong, so don’t make it worse!

This chapter is not only about seven Eleven-year-olds having sexual intercourse, it’s also about how young girls who are being molested can best contribute to the group when it comes to solving problems, according to King.

“Take off your panties and show us what you can do!”

If you haven’t read “It,” or forgot this chapter, I’ll refresh your memory. Better pull the shades and grab a cold towel.

In Chapter 22, King describes in great detail how the young Marsh girl is able to have two joyful orgasms with two of the boys and suffers from only a slight amount of burning, despite having intercourse with six consecutive partners with no lubricant.

After her four previous partners, Beverly’s young vagina is able to quickly open up to and accept Eddie’s larger penis. Mostly because of its size, Eddie’s enormous penis helps Beverly to reach her first real orgasm. Way to go Stephen!

We know “Stuttering Bill” is the boy she is attracted to and wants to be with, and throughout the book the reader is rooting for them to hook up. Then Beverly at last rewards both Bill and the reader, by allowing us to listen to her most intimate thoughts and feelings, as they are slowly and sweetly making love. The reader is able to listen, as she describes having her second and best orgasm with Bill.

But honestly, what do we really learn from reading about children screwing each other? And according to the author, what’s the kids ultimate reward? And more important, what is the redeeming value of this particular piece of “literature”?

We learn, the ultimate prize for all the boys, after all this gang banging, is that the boys are able to lead the helpless girl to safety, now that she has shared her “love with all of them,” as King puts it.

So given all her adventurous experiences, it’s very possible Christel may have carefully arranged all of “IT” for me.

Let’s say, the older daughter had lost her virginity and was already sexually active when I moved into the Beaverton apartment, by the fall of 2001.

I first met Frank and his daughter in the fall of 2000. Then I was introduced to Christel by Frank and their daughter in February, about eight months before we moved in together.

Knowing this, and knowing the lack of general supervision from her mother, the older daughter’s sudden brazen behavior and genuine excitement over what was happening, suggests to me she may have gotten naked and done something like this before. Perhaps, with someone who may have not stopped. And it’s very possible her mother knew about it.

On a couple different nights, and usually when she had been drinking a lot of wine, Christel encouraged me to play this one sex game where I was supposed to pretend she was a nine-year-old girl I was seducing. She wanted me to describe, step-by-step what I would do, and then do it, after we met in a park, or school, or somewhere else.

When I said something about being uncomfortable with this sexual fantasy, especially since she had begun telling me about her own sexual molestation as a child, she stopped playing this game.

I’m sure she remembered our conversation and may have been embarrassed. because she never did bring this fantasy up again.

After this happened, I noticed she began to seem more distant, sexually. Did my unwillingness to play this particular fantasy disappoint her? I always wondered if that was the beginning of the end for us, and the thrill was gone.

One night while we were sipping wine I asked why she liked this sex game? pretending she was nine. She began telling me about how once her parents took her to this adult party when she was nine. She said they gave her some LSD. Then she said she couldn’t remember much of what happened, other than remembering how her father and some of the other men had passed her around the room.

Can you imagine how it felt making love to the woman I loved in the same bedroom with this man’s ashes, that always seemed to be watching us from the foot of the bed?

If by age eight or nine, Christel had herself been with (raped by) a lot of teenage boys and adult men, including her own father, she knew that her daughter’s body, at the age of almost Eleven (and her vagina) were more than ready, physically. Ready to have sexual intercourse with a grown man, if that’s what she wanted.

In other words, maybe from her own experience Christel felt her daughter by this age was more than old enough to do anything her daughter (or anyone else who had her daughter’s consent), wanted to do, sexually. Christel thinks, “After all it wasn’t that long ago when some girls were married off by the time they were ten-years-old.”

I’m not a psychologist, but maybe the only way Christel could cope with the trauma of being raped by all these men, including her own father, was to pretend it was consensual. And maybe in telling her daughter about giving consent by acting out, the message got a little mixed up.

Perhaps they had an understanding BETWEEN THEM, AND they agreed it was entirely her older daughter’s choice, and nobody else’s business. As a maturing young woman, she could decide when, how, and who she had sex with or just fooled around with, apparently including any of her mom’s partners.

Maybe THAT’S WHY Christel SAID NOTHING when she saw her oldest daughter begin to push her naked vagina into my lap, simulating sex, as long as no one was forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to do. And maybe that’s why the older daughter didn’t have to stop, even when I asked politely.

As most of us know, within just a few seconds, a healthy man can become fully aroused from direct stimulation to his penis. While it’s not considered to be polite or generous when with a partner, a man who has been aroused can ejaculate within a few seconds of becoming partially erect if stimulated in just the right way. This is no secret and Christel knows this. But yet she allowed this intimate contact to go on between her older daughter and me for about a minute.

I remember, all of them made it seem so normal, being naked and sitting on my lap.

As I suggested earlier, maybe she comes up with the idea of telling the girls she wants to test my virtue, and gets the girls to help her. The younger goes first.

Then she has her older, experienced daughter, place herself on my lap in the most intimate way possible, because she knew it was the quickest way to get us stimulated, physically, while she watched out of the corner of her eye. Especially if Christel knew her oldest daughter had been having intercourse with one of Rick’s boys at night, when they stayed over, but had gone two or three months without being touched in that way.

So maybe Christel knew, as a woman, it would only take a small amount of contact to get her naked didi to become aroused, or perhaps, more aroused than she already was, waiting for her turn.

By getting her to wrap her legs around me in this way, perhaps Christel knew that her daughter’s most sensitive body part — the soft, fleshy skin along the inner lips of the vagina would very likely touch or bump against the tip of my penis.

She is guessing, for the reasons mentioned above, it will only take a short while of direct contact before her daughter’s vagina becomes moist, and even more accessible.

Almost everyone remembers having that first real lover; everyone knows, after you get past that first awkwardness, you, or more accurately your body, could never get enough touching! Boys or girls, it’s all you ever think about!

With our genitals pushing against each other, Christel knew her adventurous daughter, who only wants me to see how pretty she is, would quickly become aroused by this sort of contact.

And maybe she figured, I wouldn’t resist the “opportunity,” once I too became stimulated by the feel of having a naked, eager beaver rubbing against my barely covered penis!

As long as her daughter stayed there on my lap, bouncing back and forth, while pushing down, Christel knew, or believed, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from participating in “The Game”.

And Christel knows, once your in the game, it’s hard to get out. She just didn’t know how long it would take to get me interested enough to play.

Unlike her younger sister, the older daughter was a lot bigger in every way. I would say she was probably twice her sister’s size. And she was a lot stronger, which meant her grip around my neck and thighs was a lot tighter.

So, I reached back and arched my back, and tried to peal her arms from around my neck, which only made her struggle more.

And her mother’s laughter re-enforced her belief that this was okay, getting naked and, perhaps unintentionally, simulating sex with her mom’s boyfriend.

Maybe in her young mind she thinks, “It isn’t like she’s really going to have real sex with her mom’s boyfriend!” So maybe when it began her brain convinced her it was only a game, and it was okay to pretend when she took off her panties and jumped on my lap.

Shortly after it started, and she felt my tip bumping against her didi, I suspect she inadvertently began to feel aroused. And suddenly, the game changed.

I could have sat perfectly still, waiting to be gratified by the soft feel of her developing underside settling down on to me, and let nature take its course. But that’s not what I did!

As I try to analyze what happen that fall afternoon, honestly, I would have to admit long, long before my conscious brain ever thought about it, a part of me already knew. I suspect my body recognized instantly the touch and feel of that familiar soft curve pushing against me, searching for something, and began to react.

Ironically, I remember wanting her mother to tell her to get off of me! So I wouldn’t have to be the “bad guy.”

I suppose, if she had lost her virginity and had been having intercourse for awhile, then maybe this would explain why her body seem to want to force as much intimate contact between us as possible, as her mother vicariously watched, and silently gave her daughter the approval she needed.

As much as I try to write down (and edit) my perceptions, I can’t seem to ever find the right words to explain just how truly weird this whole situation was!

As I said, it happened so quickly. It seemed as though the older daughter’s body, much like any mature woman, was subconsciously trying everything it could to slip over the tip, and pull me inside, as it may have started to do.

The older daughter’s motions were slower and more intense, which only made the situation worse. As opposed to how it felt when the younger daughter’s bony butt bounced across my lap, until I pulled her off.

My body was probably beginning to release a small amount of semen. This is perfectly normal for any male during the first moments of arousal. It is similar to how a woman will become wet and sometimes have an orgasm while she is being raped.

And unlike a condom, I suspect the thin material of my running shorts would not prevent my semen from seeping through the thin cloth.

As most people know, the male sperm is an amazing ‘animal’. It is released from the penis at an incredible speed of over thirty miles per hour during ejaculation. While most of the fluid released from the penis is semen, and not actual sperm, the amount of sperm released during ejaculation can be in the tens of millions.

The sperm has only one true purpose in life. The sperm lives to find and penetrate the female egg. And the sperm is always waiting on the tip of any aroused penis from the very first moment it has been stimulated.

Because of the sperm’s fierce will to survive, any amount of male sperm, even just one, placed on, or inside of, or any where near the outer lips of the vagina will recognize the signal immediately and do anything it can to get inside the opening, in order to make that long swim up the vaginal canal toward the fallopian tube in search of the unfertilized egg. It knows this is the only way it will survive.

You might say, it’s that wonderful “Sent of a Woman!” Or more accurately, the enzymes in her vagina that psychotically draws the sperm from its resting place deep inside the male’s testicles. This triggers the sperm’s natural desire to succeed at all costs, and so, the race begins.

Its the greatest race of all, a race to the starting line! Without some kind of contraceptive, or its death (not more than twenty-four hours later, unless refrigerated), the sperm will not be otherwise prevented from completing its mission, it’s mission to impregnate the egg and create life.

Just after she jumped on my lap, I remember saying something to the older daughter like “What are you doing?” And “Stop that!” And “Get off me!” As I said, I think she laughed at me at least two or three times, which made me laugh too. But she wouldn’t let go. Maybe I didn’t say it harsh enough to convey my concern about what she was doing to me, physically.

Intentionally or not, she seemed to have absolutely no reservations over the fact that she was rubbing her naked didi against me, and she was starting to stimulate me. It was as though my lap were the horn of a saddle she were riding in a parade, while her mother cheered us on!

Fact is, it was a no win situation for me from the moment the girls first took off their clothes and decided to jump on my lap, no matter what I did, or how fast I did it, I would be the villain.

Sad thing is, I knew in their own minds the girls were teasing me, playing another silly game, like they often did. I didn’t want to shame them or give them a good reason to begin hating me or all men by getting angry, as I had every right to do. And as I said, I nervously giggled at some point over the ridiculous situation, being mounted by a frisky ten-year-old naked girl!

So, why would Christel let her older daughter get naked and sit on my lap in this way? Was she trying to get me aroused so I would do something sexual with her daughter.

Did she know about my Extra-Ablism and what would happen? Was she intentionally planting another seed in both of our minds that could possibly be cultivated later, if needed?

as I said, it happened so quickly. I didn’t realize it wasn’t a silly game any more, until those last few moments. It was the moment when I thought I felt a part of her start to cover me, as she was pushing down.

I apologize for being so graphic, but it is very likely that what I felt at that moment was my tip slipping in front of her, in the space between.

No matter what was or wasn’t happening, at that moment it completely freaked me out!

I panicked! That’s why I didn’t notice the older daughter’s physical reaction at the time. When I tried to pull her free, I felt her thighs squeeze together and her grip tighten around my neck, as though she were trying to hold me in place.

Like I said, she wasn’t yet a young woman or at the age of consent, but she wasn’t a little girl either, physically or emotionally. And while I may not have thought about her physical maturity before this, my body had already figured it out, as I may have felt her soft underside instinctively close around me.

As most men know, a man can touch the opening of a woman’s vagina with his penis, finger or tongue and the vagina will usually instantly open into a perfect circle, unless the woman is focused on not being entered.

After inserting the penis, finger or tongue into the opening, the opening will instinctively close around it in a way that can’t be described.

Simply the process of giving birth proves how powerful the woman’s vagina is. When exercised, the vagina has the ability to take hold of something and not let go until it gets what it wants, which makes it almost seem like a woman inside of a woman.

I’m sure the girls would be embarrassed today to talk about what happened. And I apologize, and would prefer not to embarrass them by bringing any of this up. But my life now depends on telling my side of the story!

As I will explain throughout this book, almost every day and night I am being assaulted in the crotch, feet, hands, scalp, nose and other more private places with some sort of invisible laser that can shock, burn, poke, sting, itch, or numb a part of you. And they can do this from well beyond the walls of your home or vehicle.

They can fry your electronics or your telephone any time they want, there’s no limits to what they can do. The Deep State wants the targeted individual to be afraid and unstable. By constantly stressing the targeted individual out and forcing them to take Big Pharma’s drug solution, they become a slave of the system.

That’s why it’s critical that I tell this story now While I still can, unlike some other whistleblowers.

For a moment, let’s assume Christel had no part in this craziness, and maybe one or both of the girls were behind the plot to surprise me. And let’s say, Christel is distracted by her art, and doesn’t notice at first.

However, the reader would have to agree that from the very moment Christel saw that her Younger daughter was naked and sitting on my lap, she should have said something. And then, when she noticed her older daughter was also completely naked and sitting on my lap, facing me, with at most a couple inches separating our private parts, she should have immediately jumped up and put an end to it!

She destroyed my life and helped steal my son, how could I not wonder if all of this is exactly what she wanted?

So the reader better understands how Christel reacted, and her own culpability in this, I’ll explain what happened during those last few seconds one more time. Skip these next two or three paragraphs if you like, but this is how it went. And more importantly, how Christel reacted.

We were both kind of leaning back, as I was trying to pull her arms from around my neck, when I felt her bottom pushed down onto me, and I thought I could feel her body start to swallow the tip, as it slipped in between her legs!

Then a moment later, she threw her body against me, and buried her head into my neck. At the same exact moment she squeeze her legs and arms around me, even tighter. That’s when I roughly jerked her hands apart and lifted her into the air.

She never made a sound that would have let me know she was in any sort of pain, which I figured meant I had pulled her off me before anything serious had happened.

Here’s the point and why this level of honesty is needed. At this very second when this occurred I heard Christel laugh out loud. And it was really loud!

It was as though something had burst inside of Christel. I now wonder, did she have an orgasm at that moment, watching this?

She must have seen the shocked look on my face when this happened. And she must have seen her daughter suddenly throw her body against me, burying her face.

Did seeing our reaction at that moment cause Christel to instantly become gratified?

I could tell by the laughter that followed, Christel seemed to be extremely titillated by the live entertainment, and didn’t care that things had suddenly gotten a lot more serious.

Except, here’s the really twisted part of this sex game.

As I said, at that one moment, when it happened, the older daughter limply fell against me and quickly buried her face into my neck, throwing her long hair everywhere, partly covering my face.

As I think back about it, I would imagine her daughter must have also been shocked by the sudden intimate contact between our most sensitive and most private parts.

And I suppose it’s possible that her already aroused didi only needed that small, little tickle near her vagina to make it respond, as it apparently did when she pushed against me that last time.

that’s why today, I believe her older daughter may have had an orgasm at that moment. And it may even have been her first.

Based on how I recall it felt at the moment when her entire body instinctively tightened around me, I realize now this is the same exact reaction that happens when I’m making love to a mature woman when she’s having an orgasm, while she’s in my arms, or sitting on my lap in this way.

Obviously if she were a mature woman, I would have acknowledged her physical response by rubbing her back and holding on to her as tight as I could until it was over, but that’s not what I did!

The older daughter may not have understood what happened to her at that moment, other than suddenly feeling really dizzy and losing her breath.

Maybe a part of her wants to separate the memory from me. Maybe her body is telling her it felt nice, this strong physical sensation that for a moment took her breath away and made her feel warm all over.

But yet she feels ashamed, because she can’t separate me from the experience, which not surprisingly makes her feel angry.

She thinks to herself, ‘It wasn’t so confusing before this when Rick and the boys were around, and she begins to resent me for it?

So after it happens, maybe she tries to tell her mom about her confusing feelings over how her body reacted so strangely when she was sitting on my lap.

She maybe says, “Mom, I think I could feel it touching against my didi. Then I got this really weird tingle feeling all over, and I think I may have almost passed out.”

Her mother plays it off and tells her it was nothing, and to just try and forget about it.

Except her mom knows exactly what happened and why her body responded the way it did.

Then maybe Christel begins to worry that someday her daughter might tell someone else? After all, it may have been Christel’s idea to get her daughters to take their clothes off and straddle my lap in a way that she knew, or should have known, would force some direct intimate contact between the lips of her vagina, and the tip of my barely covered penis.

She should have known that sitting in this way on my lap would likely cause her girls, especially her possibly sexually-active older daughter, to very quickly become aroused. And once she became aroused, maybe she knew her daughter would be motivated to keep going.

Christel had to know being completely naked with their legs spread apart while they were forcing the already parted lips of their developing vaginas down on to or against any male’s penis (and what would likely very quickly become a stiffening penis), their vaginas would, or could, be more easily penetrated by the man’s tip, accidentally or not. Especially the older daughter, given her age and anatomy, and her possible previous sexual experience (and her mom’s apparent complete consent to be sexually active, if that’s what she wanted).

As I said, it lasted just a couple seconds. I quickly reacted and firmly pried her hands lose from around my neck.

Because of the way her legs were wrapped around me, and her extra weight, only then was I able to lift the older daughter off my lap and break any sort of intimate contact.

I could have easily sat perfectly still at that moment and done nothing. I could have simply pretended to be an unwilling participant as this young naked pre-teenage girl was unknowingly spreading the lips of her vagina against the stiffening tip of my penis, and wiggling around at the same time she was pushing down.

You see, if I had sat perfectly still and not pulled her off my lap, and if she had already lost her virginity, it may have only taken another half minute or so before I was able to slip inside the opening, and we began copulating!

I can assure you that if this had happened my brainless friend, with no help, would have responded to the moisture and intimate contact, and probably ejaculated within another ten or twenty seconds!

My point in describing this possible outcome in such graphic detail is to make the reader understand how damn easy it would have been for me, or any actual sexual predator, to take advantage of this “amazing opportunity.”

But that’s not what I did! And only a righteous asshole could blame me for any of this craziness!

And god knows, If I had ever knowingly ejaculated anywhere around either of the girls for any reason at all, No one, including me, would ever defend my participation, regardless of the circumstances.

But that never happened. And it was the choice I willfully made more than once.

As is so often the case in America today, and as my story proves, once again “they” were able to crucify the poor man. And you have to ask, how many of these other straight men who are shooting people every day feel the same way as me? In that, there is no more hope for most of us straight guys in America, whether it’s school, the job, or in the courts.

After all of this, Christel said nothing as her younger, still naked daughter came running back down the hallway again. I mistakenly sat back down, thinking the three of them were done having their fun embarrassing me.

I had just started to relax, when a moment later I felt the younger daughter jumped back on to my lap.

This time I quickly stood up, preventing her naked bottom from having any further contact with me, as Christel continued to laugh.

After words, I could tell by their extremely nervous laughter that both of the girls were very likely sexually gratified by the entire experience, even if the younger one didn’t understand why.

So you understand, this entire “game” is a typical form of classical “grooming of a child.” often The adult predator will get their victim to play a game, with the intent of getting them aroused, or at least curious about, and desirable for, this strange sexual sensation. By getting the child to laugh while it’s happening, the young or inexperienced person is more likely to feel comfortable and more easily give into the feeling and continue to “play the game.”

Between adults, this is part of the normal seduction process, but when an adult does it to a child, even if they use someone else as the instrument, it is probably criminal. And don’t just assume that the adult who arranged the “game” will be the one held accountable, especially when it’s the hot mom setting it up!

So as a warning to any straight man who is dating a woman with female children, I graduated college with honors in pre-law, yet I was still too dumb to realize the full ramifications of what was happening in that family even though I was right there when a lot of it was going on. So don’t be a dumb ass like me!

I was stupid enough to completely trust and believe their mother knew, and assumed all mothers instinctively know, what is and is not appropriate behavior for sexually-curious young girls when a man is around.

And the truth is that Christel may have known the whole time how inappropriate this was, but needed to have something she could use against me, if necessary.

Acting sexually inappropriate around others was something Christel had been doing herself, throughout her life, including once being arrested in Kingman, Arizona for indecent exposure.

So maybe she knew that she would be unlikely to change, and she wanted to have something to make sure her partner would be okay with it, even when it included her daughters, or other men.

After being accused by her in the fall of 2004 that I had acted inappropriately while we were living in Beaverton, I learned from her sister and her ex’s that there were at least six other men Christel had previously accused of some sort of sexual abuse, including her step-father, Al. This is probably why Al’s new wife really hated Christel. And why Christel’s Aunt in Klamath Falls also hated her, according to Christel.

Obviously, she couldn’t blame her own father, could she?

In Alice Carriere’s 2023 personal memoir, “Everything, Nothing, Someone,” she describes how her mother had supplanted ideas in her head, because of her mother’s own sexual abuse as a child, that Alice’s father had molested her. However, by the time Alice reached her late thirties she realized it had never happened. Unfortunately, her relationship with her father had been destroyed by her mother’s lies.

Often young girls will try to imitate their mother’s behavior, good or bad. And maybe that’s what made this relationship an unnegotiable dilemma from the beginning, even if I never figured it out until long after it was over.

Every woman I ever dated who had a daughter was always aggressively-protective of them whenever any grown man was around, sometimes even psychotically.

So living with this family of frisky females, as a blind man, was quite a shock, as you can imagine.

Before we met I know the girls were being groomed in one way or another by most of the adults around them to obsess over sex and their “didis,” in a way that I now know was not healthy or appropriate. No one can ever say our dinner conversations were exactly what you might call normal, but what is “normal” in the wild west isn’t the same as most of the places I’ve lived.

Perhaps this one conversation about young French girls Christel sand I had late one night may be the best example of her thought process around sex and her girls. This incident is another example of how Christel would often share with me, and probably many of her male partners, information about her own girls, or young girls’ in general, and their vaginas. And their ability and desire to have sex.

If you haven’t figured it out yet, talking about penis’s, vaginas, and all the different ways of having sex, was one of Christel’s favorite topics when we were alone, especially if she was drinking a little wine.

I can’t prove it was Intentional, but I now believe Christel was grooming both of us, me and her older daughter. She was grooming us to feel comfortable with, and desirable for, having some sort of sexual relationship. It’s obvious now, she was able to manipulate her daughter’s behavior to make this happen, as I’ll explain below.

Maybe it came from guilt she felt over what was done to her by her father, and she wanted to make it seem normal? Or maybe, it was the guilt she felt for having these other secret intimate relationships? And since she may have known her daughter was sexually active, maybe a part of her just wanted me to be happy too. And she may have been willing to look the other way, if this is what both me and her daughter wanted.

Besides, she thinks what power she would have over me to do what ever she wanted if she could only get me to do anything sexual with her older daughter. She knows once any part of my body touches her daughter’s vagina, and I think this was the plan, it would be more than enough to send me to prison for a long, long time.

“I know what you did today with her while I was gone, and I’m willing to keep this between the three of us. We’ll think of it as a family problem.”

“But there’s going to be some new rules around here, and from now on, we girls get to decide everything.”

“So here’s the first rule,” she says. “You will never again be allowed to question my other relationships. From now on I’ll be with anyone I want, any time I want. Of course, I’ll keep it away from the home.”

You see, I know this part is true. Both Christel’s daughters know their mother was cheating on me. They know I gave their mother an expensive diamond engagement ring and was obviously, very in love with her. They knew I brought her flowers all the time, and sometimes surprised her by leaving them on her door step when she lived in Springfield.

But the girls also knew I had my suspicions. I would sometimes question them about their mom’s strange and inconsistent explanations about where she had been OR WHY SHE WOULDN’T ANSWER THE PHONE last night. Perhaps, the girls were worried about how I would react if I found out all three of them had been keeping these secrets.

All I ever did was to try to not take the never ending drama and daily nuttiness too serious, and try to fit in, apparently, like Rick did.

So maybe one morning Christel decides to tell her oldest daughter exactly where she’s going . she’s going out to see another man, or another woman. And maybe she tells her daughter she’s going to leave her alone with me for the whole day, like they talked about.

And before she leaves, Christel maybe says something like, “Don’t worry, sweetie. “He’s a gentle man, but I’m guessing he’s not exactly what you would call a gentlemen.” They laugh.

Maybe she says, “You’re growing into a young woman, so it’s up to you to decide what you do with your own body and who you do it with. Don thinks your sick, so he agreed to stay home with you so I wouldn’t have to miss school.” Understanding exactly what her mother is telling her, they both smile and hug.

“I promise, I won’t be back before three, so there’s nothing to worry about, nobody will be checking in on you guys’, but call me if you need anything.”

And her mom didn’t return that afternoon until almost four o’clock, more than enough time to do what ever we wanted. And maybe that’s why Christel picked out a back scratcher for her daughter to give to me for Christmas? Maybe it was to let me know that her daughter would scratch my back, if I agree to “scratch her’s.”..and don’t worry so much any more about what her mom’s up to (if she doesn’t happen to answer her cell phone or comes home late.

Knowing her mom is off cheating on me, the older daughter begins to think about it. Maybe she’s thinking to herself, if she could get me to join in on any of these games, even just a little, I would no longer have any right or any good reason to get angry at her mom for seeing other men.

Maybe she thinks in her immature mind, if everyone’s cheating on everyone, then who cares? After all, her grandmother has a boyfriend in Eugene, Dr. Bill Mitchell, who is also married. Her grandmother used to regularly visits him when she would come to town, and her husband, John, doesn’t seem to mind or want to know where she is when he calls.”

So the older daughter is feeling a lot of guilt about not telling me what she knows about what her mother’s been doing with these other men, behind my back. Up till now as far as she knows I’ve been completely faithful to her mother, which is true.

“If something really did happen between us, would it really be cheating? Especially if nobody cares?” She thinks.

When her mom leaves she starts thinking about what she wants to do or not do. She hasn’t decided exactly how far she would be willing to go with me.

And she thinks to herself, if she can get me to play around with her, even just a little, “After today, nobody will have any right to complain about anything. And nobody’s feelings will get hurt any more.”

And by doing this, she gets to be the peace maker for the adults, which deep down is every kid’s desire.

Other than sometimes around her younger sister, I would describe the older one as being a sensitive and compassionate person. So keeping a secret like this for her mother, who she knows is seeing other people, must have been causing both her and her sister a lot of emotional distress.

So maybe in her young mind, just like Beverly Marsh and her magical vagina, she’s gonna do everything she can to make everyone “feel better.” That is, she’s gonna do her part to make everyone happy, and put an end to this recent bitterness.

Maybe a seed had been carefully planted in the older daughter’s mind by her mom or Rick, her grandmother, or her dad, or maybe one of her friends. The thought that if she went along and actually did it with her mom’s boyfriend, someone she’s known longer than her mom has known, there wouldn’t be any more angry arguments about all of her mom’s secrets?

Maybe she thinks to herself sub-consciously, and 75% of our brain is spent in sub-conscious thought, “It’s not like washing the dishes. Besides,” she tells herself, “I kind of likes sex.”

As her mom is getting ready for school, she thinks about how it might happen. Her mom suggests, “Maybe you should take a bath and ask Don to bring you some ice water?” They smile.

She begins to imagine herself sitting on my lap, like it was on the couch. Except this time it’s in the tub, which is filled with hot water and bubbles. And maybe she thinks to herself, “This time it won’t be so easy for him to lift me off his lap. That is, if he even wants to?”

Guilt is a powerful motivator, especially for young people. I don’t blame either of her daughters for anything, but the fact is on several occasions the older daughter did behave as though she, or her body, wanted to have some sort of sexual contact with me. And it became obvious that both of the girls were very interested in their own sexuality, and weren’t ashamed of it.

Probably, under different circumstances with one or more healthy biological parents, where they could discuss their sexual feelings in a healthy way, this wouldn’t be as big of a problem as it was.

It seemed as though I were being seduced by a young girl who had apparently reached puberty nine or ten months earlier. And she knew, she had her mother’s permission to do what ever she wanted to do with me, except there are two really big problems with this arrangement.

First, no matter what her mother told her about her own experience, the older daughter was way too young to know what she really wanted, sexually. Even if someone had been grooming her to feel comfortable about expressing her own sexuality with anyone she wanted, she was too young.

Here’s the second problem. Even if I did agree to go along with any of these “great opportunities to have a secret sexual relationship with the older daughter (and I never did), it would be wrong.

the bottom line is, it would make me a far, far worse cheat then Christel. And maybe Christel knew this. So maybe she was willing to leave her alone with me and go ahead and let it happen, at least once and sacrifice her daughter’s virtue. That is, if it gave Christel the power over me she needed to excuse her own bad behavior.

You see, if I ever went along with “the game,” unlike her, I would be cheating on her with a child! And all her other affairs (with adult men or women) would be irrelevant in the eyes of the law.

Maybe she figured she just needed to leave me alone with her sexually-curious daughter to get me to take the bait they were offering.

As I mentioned, when the older daughter jumped on my lap three or four months earlier I discovered to my surprise she had already developed the same sort of round bottom any mature, petite woman would have. And since Christel told me her older daughter had started developing pubic hairs sometime that previous summer, I figured she may have already had her first period.

Christel may have decided that fall, and definitely by the following spring, that her daughter was old enough to serve as her surrogate, and have sex with me, if that’s what the oldest daughter wanted. And that’s exactly how it seemed.

If Christel knew her older daughter had been experimenting, sexually, with Rick’s Boys or someone else from school, maybe she also told her mom that she really liked sex. In some ways, they were very honest with each other, and so, sharing these sort of intimate details about her sexual feelings with her mother wouldn’t be surprising.

It would explain why Christel would let her older, sexually-experienced daughter fool around with me in this way, even though I was a grown man. It might also explain why Christel might be willing to let her do anything she wanted to do with me as long as she wasn’t being forced or pressured to do it. Apparently, this didn’t include being manipulated by her mother to have sex with her mother’s boyfriend.

And it’s possible that her mother knew, or suspected, the older daughter had already had as much sexual experience as many fifteen or sixteen-year-old American girls. Given this, why would she mind if she saw her naked daughter sitting on the couch rubbing her naked vagina against my crotch?

Putting on my science hat, and briefly speaking from a strictly physiological analysis, I know every time a female has intercourse her vagina is being trained to respond to the feel of the penis entering her, by first opening wide and then closing around it, like a glove.

Based on my personal experience, I know each time the female is entered her vagina will instinctively open wider and become moist even quicker. And if she is anxiously thinking about it before hand, while she’s taking off her clothes and waiting for her turn, this same physiological reaction will likely begin to occur well before she has ever been touched. Therefore, making penetration of her vagina faster and more possible.

When I was around fourteen or fifteen I remember having my first real sexual relationship with a pretty slender neighbor girl with long strawberry blond hair who was, around twelve or thirteen when we met. I was fifteen.

I would watch her from my upstairs bedroom window, jumping up and down on the trampoline. Her red hair would spread out like wings and sparkle in the sunlight. I thought she was very beautiful.

About four or five months after we met our sexual relationship began. She would invite me over whenever her parents would leave, and take me back to her bedroom. Her older brother would stand watch, while we fooled around.

The first couple times we did it, I remember we agreed to only put the tip of my penis part way inside since in the beginning it caused her a little discomfort.

As I understand sometimes happens, she never did bleed that first or any other time, although I’m pretty sure she was still a virgin when we began seeing each other.

However, after having intercourse a few more times, there was no longer any physical or emotional barrier preventing me from entering her. So despite her young age, after a short time of being sexually active she told me how much she liked it, not only with her words, but also by the way she instantly became wet when I touched her. And by the way she began to completely open her body to me whenever we had sex. She was the third girl I had ever been intimate with.

Sometime that summer, my sister took me to a keg party. Then that night, one of her girlfriends from school I knew that had once spent the night with my sister, took me by the hand and pulled me out the back door. She took me into this overgrown field next to the house and we did it in the field.

Although honestly, the only part I remember about it was trying to franticly get my pants back on, hearing the sound of my sister’s frantic voice calling out our names, “Don! Chris! Where are you! DON! CHRIS! COME OUT!”

But my first time, a few months before I turned fifteen, was pretty crazy, so maybe this is a good place to share it with the reader.

earlier that summer, my sister’s new boyfriend invited me to crash at his house, since we both played guitars and sometimes sang together when he came over to visit my sister.

His dad worked nights, so one night after his mom went to sleep he took me to his younger sister’s room, who was barely thirteen-years-old, and told me she was experienced. He said she had gotten pregnant a few months ago and had an abortion, and that she couldn’t get pregnant any more.

I assumed he meant she was on the pill, although I didn’t know much about the pill or using any kind of protection. I had never seen a rubber, and wouldn’t have any idea how to put it on. Frankly, I had no idea why he was telling me all this personal stuff about his sister.

But I wondered later if maybe she was already pregnant and had missed her last period. And my friend and his sister became worried, so they made a plan.

Maybe they needed someone to blame for her pregnancy, before asking their parents for an abortion. He always seemed a little nervous, and I never figured out why, but I always wondered.

You have to admit, it was a very generous offer, to offer his sexy, well-developed little sister for sex, to a virgin. I thought most guys were more protective when it comes to their little sister.

He said he would be back in awhile and left me alone with her. He probably sneaked out of the house and hooked up with my little sister at the gravel pit, who definitely wasn’t a virgin?

When he first brought me into her room, I noticed right away his sister was laying on the bed, under the blanket. As soon as her brother left, she invited me to join her. So I took off my shoes and laid down beside her.

Then, she grabbed my hand and pulled it under the blanket, I was startled and jerked it back, thinking it must have been a mistake, since to my surprise, I realized she wasn’t wearing clothes!

The second time she did it, a couple minutes later, I knew it wasn’t a mistake, and so we did it twice my first time, before her brother came back.

Despite my clumsiness, I’ll always remember how sweet she was to me as I stumbled my way through her secret garden, in search of something…something that I’ll never forget.

So back to the story about the young French girls and their vaginas. I don’t remember what Christel said they were called, but one night she excitedly began telling me about how the French would give their young daughters a special kit. She didn’t actually say whether or not she had given each of her daughters one of these kits, and I never asked, but she wanted me to think she had.

According to Christel, these kits are first given to girls at around five or six-years-old. She explained, the kits consist of a number of tubes that vary in size. The young girls are instructed to insert them into the opening of their vaginas when they go to sleep. As the French girls grow older, and become more comfortable with how it feels, they are instructed to increase the size of the tube.

Christel said, “This is done to get French females to both become comfortable with, and desirable for, the feel of a man’s penis inside of them.”

I had lots and lots of chances to fondle the girls’ genitals if I wanted to- And as mentioned above, on one afternoon, I had the “perfect opportunity” to rape the older daughter several times, and probably get away with it. I may have been able to use her mother’s, as well as her own, guilty feelings, as I’ll explain.

There was this one morning in late January or February, or maybe early March, of 2002 when the older daughter, who was almost eleven, was left home alone with me. We were living in Beaverton, and I was working on the computer.

She yelled out to me in this sexy-sounding voice). “Oh Don, would you please bring me a glass of ice water pretty please?”

I was soon to learn, she was taking a bath (and the bathroom door wasn’t locked, but instead, left wide open).

So when I came to the door with a glass of water, she quickly stood up and asked me to bring her the glass. And when I walked toward her she very quickly leaned her body over the tub, intentionally leaning into me. Suddenly, I felt her wet, bare chest touch me. Obviously, she wanted me to know she was naked, or at least naked from the waist up.

As she sipped the water, she leaned in to me even more, as though she were going to fall over. We probably would have only needed to lean our hips slightly forward another inch or so and our lower halves would have been touching, just like it was when we were sitting on the couch.

Right then, if I were a pervert, I could have rubbed my hands up and down her body, stopping at her butt. Then I could have wrapped my arms around her and started gently grinding my hips into her, waiting to see how she responded. Just waiting to see if she would become aroused, or more aroused, by feeling my body pressing against her.

Because of what happened on the couch, I suspect she wouldn’t have pulled away from me. But what would she have done if I had quickly pulled off my shorts, While continuing to rub her back side?

And if she had already been sexually active, and was given something for her cramps by her mother, how far do you suppose she would go (with a little more encouragement from her mom’s boyfriend)?

Maybe I say something funny like, “I love your outfit. Is it your birthday?” And she shyly giggles and says, “No,” and we both laugh!

As I felt her relaxed body leaning into me, it was as though I could hear her thinking, ‘If you’re interested, maybe we could pick up where we left off when we were sitting on the couch?’

Imagine this. She is standing directly in front of me, leaning against me, completely naked. Of course, that is, I would assume she was completely naked, but who knows, she may have been wearing underwear or swimming bottoms, or maybe a thong. But I don’t think so.

As soon as I handed her the ice water, and I felt her lean into me, I tried to guess what she was thinking. I kind of knew that she was teasing me,maybe testing me to see if I was interested. And waiting to see how far I would go, while her mother was away.

Honestly, I was both embarrassed and probably a little flattered that she trusted me enough to be naked while we were alone. But I also immediately wondered, why was she acting this way, getting naked, drawing a bubble bath, and then tempting a healthy, grown man with her young, developing body?

Before that day I had once or twice overheard her and her mother talking about this subject, talking about her daughter’s absolute right to explore her own sexuality how and when ever she wanted. I overheard them say something like this, but I assumed it meant sometime in the distant future when she was older, but I may have been wrong.

More specifically, I overheard them saying something about the older daughter having a right to have privacy when she was with her boyfriend, and her right to choose who she had sex with, and when she had sex, if that’s what she wanted.

As I said earlier, the sad truth was that maybe she knew her mother was with someone else that mourning, and either her or maybe her and her mother, decided that it would be okay to offer me some of her attention? I know her mother and her grandmother had both of the girls lie many times to her grandfather John and me about their affairs.

Maybe that’s why her mother left her alone with me for the day, because they both felt guilty about Christel being with someone else?

In a moment of silliness, I played along with her pre-teenage romantic fantasy and teased her back, partly because I didn’t want to embarrass or shame her by pointing out how suggestive this looked, the way she was Leaning her wet, naked chest against me? But I also didn’t want her to hate me.

I remember being barely thirteen, and hanging out in the basement during one of my sisters slumber parties. One of her girlfriends really like me, and kept coming over and sitting on my lap. At this point, I had only kissed a girl once, romantically, so I had no idea how to respond to all this friendly attention.

She was a really attractive, slender girl with dark auburn hair that went almost to the floor. She was around twelve, but to my surprise she wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about sitting on my lap when my mom walked bye.

I remember, she asked me several times if I thought she was pretty, and I said over and over”Yes, of course you are!” and told her that I thought she was really, really cute.

But ignorantly, I said something stupid like, “When you get breast you’re going to be really, really beautiful!”

Not surprisingly, she didn’t take it the way I intended, and spent the night in the bathroom crying.

So along with being cast out of the party, and never having the chance to tell her how sorry I was, my mom gave me a real good scolding for being “such a little creep!”

So I suppose I could have humiliated my soon-to-be step-daughter and sarcastically asked her “What would your mother say if she knew you were acting like a little hussy around her boyfriend?”

Unlike what happened on the couch or what may have happened when we were all in the bed together, I never became aroused by any of this silliness (although perhaps a little nervous in the beginning, not knowing what she had on her mischievous mind).

Almost all men, once they become aroused (by the sight and touch of a fertile, naked female), would think any female who knowingly put herself into this situation was sending a clear sign of consent.

It’s difficult to turn it off once this ancient message is sent to the masculine brain. And there are more than a few males out there who would find it extremely difficult to resist the implied offer. Obviously, she, or her mother, decided I wouldn’t be effected by this same sort of close physical contact. Or perhaps they believed or hoped I would take advantage of this great opportunity?

I remember a part of me was feeling a little unsettled at the time, being alone with a young naked girl who may have been already old enough to become pregnant, But I knew she was safe with me (even though here she was once again, completely naked, touching me with a part of her body). And this time, there was no one to stop us.

The challenge was to reject her, without making her feel rejected. I remember thinking I didn’t want her to hate me, or hate all men, or feel ugly or undesirable. One thing I learned long ago was how insecure and emotional young girls around this age feel when men or older boys are around.

Almost immediately, when I felt her bare chest lean into me, a part of me wanted her to understand she was once again playing a very, very dangerous game by behaving this way around any grown man. And I felt she ought to know that there are more than a few men (or boys) who are a lot stronger than her, and who wouldn’t stop until they got everything they wanted. That is, finding a young, attractive naked girl standing in front of them in a bubble bath, with water dripping from every where, including her new fuzzy pubic hairs.

All young people need to understand that when it comes to “sex,” even the very best plans can sometimes go very bad, very quickly. And every young girl should know, just because some man happens to be their mom’s boyfriend doesn’t mean he should be trusted any more than any other man, such as a teacher, coach, or bus driver who has some sort of temporary custody over them.

Why in the world any young girl would ever let herself be alone with a grown man, who isn’t her father, while she’s standing naked in a bath tub filled with bubbles, is itself very troubling.

However, any man who would take advantage of a young girl like this, who maybe mistakenly thinks she’s only playing a harmless game with her mom’s boyfriend, would very likely also try to figure out some way to get away with it.

The two fictional sexual encounters described below, involving an adult male and a young developing female, whether it was, or later became, “consensual,” is a serious sex crime. Regardless of whether or not one or both parents had encouraged this sort of inappropriate playfulness.

The rapist, when it is an acquaintance, I suspect will very likely do anything to convince his or her victim that they [the rapist] are not the one responsible for what just happened. And most people are raped by someone they know, not by strangers.

Make no mistake, all young females should never, ever put themselves in to this sort of situation, being completely naked in front of any male (other than perhaps a very little brother).

For example, If my girlfriend’s daughter didn’t feel well that day, as she claimed, and if she felt she needed a hot bath, why didn’t she take a bath earlier before her mother left. Christel left the apartment around 9 or 9:30 and there was plenty of time to take a bath before she left.

Another question is, did her mother know she was planning to take a bath after she left, or think to ask her? This would be extremely puzzling, if her mother knew why she was staying home (she was starting her period) and didn’t ask this question?

Knowing how almost all females on earth are programmed by men to feel dirty because of this natural biological function, why wouldn’t her mother think to ask her if she wanted to get a bath before she left?

I’m not blaming her for wanting to stay home, especially if the older daughter had unexpectedly started her period or was cramping. That would explain a lot of this. She didn’t seem ill or bed ridden, because after she finished her bath she asked if we could play some music. So I hooked up my equipment, then she sang and I played guitar for about an hour.

A few days before her mother would start her monthly cycle, she would become really, really horny, if I can be so blunt. It got where I would keep track of what day of the month it was so that I knew when she would want, or need, more physical attention.

And during their period, most of the women I knew intimately would often insist on being in the tub or shower when we made love, which is perfectly understandable.

Was my girlfriend’s daughter simply wanting to be touched there, to make it feel better? Is this why she asked for ice cubes? After getting in to the warm bath, Was it something she decided to do on the spur of the moment, just simply hoping in the back of her mind I might be able to, if I can be so politically incorrect, comfort her aching didi?

Maybe she just wants it to stop hurting, and can’t seem to think about anything else. And since I was there, and we were home alone, maybe she thought I could help.

I have been told in confidence by more than a few women, that when their just starting their period their vaginas will ache. And firmly rubbing the lips of the vagina with my fingers (or a cube of ice) would give them great relief. It would also usually give them an amazing orgasm.

Perhaps the failure of many men to understand and appreciate a woman’s body, and in some cases even be turned off by touching a wet vagina, is probably why some women seek other women for comfort. The fact is, women like to have the clitoris and the lips of their vagina gently licked, and once is never enough, something many men refuse to do.

While I can’t speak for gay men, many straight men prefer the thrusting of intercourse. I would guess that it’s likely the male brain figuring out that this is the most efficient route to reach the ultimate goal, orgasm. Which the primitive brain knows is the only way to impregnate the female and continue the tribe. To the primitive male brain there is only one way to feel pleasure, while women know, there are many ways.

In addition, similar to breast milk, the immune systems of men may also benefit from the consumption of vaginal fluids.

In 2010 a study by the National Academy of Sciences found that babies born vaginally were more healthy than babies born using cesarian sections. In the study, they found that during birth the babies who were exposed to the good bacteria of vaginal fluids were able to colonize the mother’s good bacteria. and babies that were removed from the womb by cesarian sections did not receive this benefit.

Then they began swabbing the babies born cesarian with vaginal fluids. This way, they discovered the babies were able to significantly improve their immune system because of the good bacteria.

In addition, we now know that women who give birth and breast feed are far less likely to ever get cancer, so maybe we can conclude that performing oral sex on a woman and drinking breast milk may have other health benefits to men since we know it benefits babies. Perhaps women and their bodies are the real Fountain of Youth?

Thinking back, I have to also wonder if her mother had given her “something” for the discomfort? Maybe Benadryl or something stronger, she had secretly tucked away for a rainy day?

At the time, she didn’t seemed stoned to me, and I would have never suspected it. But it would kind of make sense that her mother might have given her something if she was complaining about having a lot of cramps that morning. And this might explain her silliness and why she was leaning against me the way she was?

But why wouldn’t her mother also consider that giving her daughter any sort of “medication” might also cause a young, sexually-curious daughter to lose some of her inhibitions, being left home alone for so many hours with her mother’s boyfriend?

I know this might sound crazy, but was that Christel’s plan, and maybe perhaps her fantasy?

Did she give her something? Like perhaps some of her valium before she left? And then perhaps suggest that she soak in a hot tub for awhile, hoping this time something sexual might transpire between us.

I’ll explain exactly how this could very easily have happen, although I hadn’t ever thought about it until years after I was arrested. And I apologize for the graphic details, but there’s no other way to prove it was very possible, if that’s what I wanted.

In this alternative version, with an alternative boyfriend who is blind, let’s say, since she’s already standing up to take the glass of water from me. As she’s leaning into me, I gently take her by the elbow and with one swift motion easily lift her from the tub.
Pretending to need her help with something on the computer screen, something I need her to read. Which would have sounded very sincere, since this rapist does want her help with something that can’t wait.

She’s probably a little confused, but doesn’t object or resist, as she steps out from the warm, bubbly water onto the bathroom floor. Then I take the glass and hand her a towel to wrap around herself, to make her feel more comfortable.

Before she knows what’s happening, I pull a knife from my shorts and put it to her throat and tell her in the meanest voice possible, :Don’t make a fucking sound!”

Within a few seconds I’m fairly sure, despite my blindness, I could have easily pushed her into the master bedroom and locked the door behind us. After moving her on to the bed, where no one would hear her cry or call for help, I could have easily slipped off my shorts and climbed on top of her.

Pushing the knife to her throat, I could have used my weight to hold her down, and used my legs to force her thighs apart, exactly how it was when we were on the couch.

Except this time I would be the one in control, and this time I would have no reason to prevent our naked bodies from touching, as I carefully moved into a better position.

Her helpless, wet, naked body is now completely trapped underneath me, and for this reason, she is unable to move. Before she can catch her breath and say or do anything to stop me, I’m able to quickly rape her.

So over the next three or four hours I have no doubt I could have easily raped her over and over, if I had wanted, and she would have had no way to stop it from happening.

Because of all of the adrenalin, it would probably be over really quick the first time. But after a short break, when it starts again, the verbal coercion part of the rape would also begin.

So let’s say, while I’m slowly forcing myself on her again, I begin blaming her mother for what was happening, reminding her of all the other times her mother tried to get me to “do it” with her.

But this time it’s slower and more gentle. And while I’m doing it, sounding sincere, I begin the coercion by asking, “Isn’t this what you and your mom wanted me to do when we were sitting on the couch, trying to ignore your sexy body?”

Maybe I tell her, as sweetly as possible, “You know, I’m not ignoring you now. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

She makes a small whimpering sound, and I feel her shake her head up and down. Maybe it’s out of fear, but I think to myself, it doesn’t really matter, The coercion process has begun.

Then maybe I say something sick, like, “You know this isn’t really your fault, and it’s not my fault. Think about it. It’s really your mom’s fault. Was it her idea to get you to sit on my lap?” She doesn’t say anything.

I continue, “You can’t blame me for being a man? You can’t blame me for wanting to see every bit of you, can you?”

“You know I haven’t stop thinking about doing this with you ever since I felt you rubbing your sweet little beaver against me.” She makes a sound that sounds like it could have been a giggle, but I’m not sure. So I kiss the side of her head, and continue.

After a few moments of silence, I pause from what I’m doing, and ask her in an even more softer voice, “Tell me, why did you really call me in to the bathroom? And why are you laying here with me now without a stitch of clothes, making love?” I pause for a moment.

“Do you think this is just an accident? Or do you think maybe it’s fate that we’re finally here together?”

She answers in a quiet, slow voice, “I don’t know.” But she knows exactly why she’s here in bed with me, naked, and this time, alone with me.

“Tell me the truth, you did think about me doing it with you, didn’t you?” I ask in the softest, sweetest voice I can.

“I know you were secretly watching me make love to your mom when we were in Springfield. Did you see how happy I made her feel? Is that why you wanted me to touch your didi?”

As she lays there in my bed underneath me, it reminds her of the night her mother and her got tipsy and she came to bed with us, and the arrangement they made. She wonders if I know, and suddenly feels this strong urge that maybe she should tell me everything.

She thinks what I’m saying may be true and that if she tells the police what happened today, they might arrest her mother. But she already knows down inside she can’t ever tell anyone anything.

She decides to not think about her mother any more, and concentrates on the moment, and when she feels some of the weight lift off of her, she relaxes and feels my body move. Her body instinctively responds, as if we were slow dancing.

She thinks, maybe she’ll even tell her mom. And if her mom tries to give her even a little shit about it, she’ll remind her about the time she came to bed with us, and then her mom fell asleep, and…

She knows now, until she decides otherwise, her mother can’t say a damn thing about any of it! Just thinking about it, makes her smile.

None of this really ever happened, but maybe under this fictional version she tells herself something really crazy like:

“I’ll bet it’s going to be even better, now that me and my mom will both be fucking her boyfriend!” and she lets out a small laugh, and thinks to herself, “and now she’ll have to stop beating me with those fucking wooden spoons, or I will fucking send her to fucking prison! And me and Don will raise the babies without her!” And she laughs again.

Hearing her make a sound that strangely almost sounded like a laugh, I ask, “Are you okay?” She nods her head and now sounding more confident, answers in a clear voice, “Yes.”

Her mind quickly flashes back to the moment when she first called out for me- She remembers sitting there for at least a few minutes in the tub, gently touching herself, waiting to get up the nerve to call me.

As she begins to feel more comfortable with the weight on top of her, she asks herself “Isn’t this why you decided to take a bath and leave the bathroom door open, silly? What’s the difference whether we did it in the tub or the bed? Or who gets to be on top?” She laughs again, to herself.

After a short time, she completely forgets about the knife (which has conveniently disappeared), and she closes her eyes and relaxes.

A little while later, she feels her mom’s boyfriend sliding down off of her. And then begins to feel herself being kissed everywhere…just as she imagined, when she first filled the tub with really hot water. And then very slowly, took off her clothes.

Despite this “perfect opportunity,” this isn’t what I did, or ever thought about doing until long after I was accused of doing something like this, and began to write about it. And explain how damn easy it would have been for me to do something just like this, while her mom was away. And maybe get away with it.

Every sexually maturing young girl should know this- The male brain is designed by nature to send a message to his organ that any time a naked woman, and her exposed vagina, is in their presence, she is likely telling them that she is ready to copulate (if the male and his organ are interested). Even Krog knew subconsciously a long, long time ago what a naked female with even a small amount of fur down there meant for both him and the tribe.

I naturally began to visualize her standing there in front of me, with no clothes. In all honesty, it was kind of cute. That is, the way she casually was leaning her naked chest against me while she was handing me back the glass, as though she were feeling a little tipsy and had started to lose her balance.

I remember, the whole time she used both of her hands to hold the glass, and then when she was done drinking, she carefully put the half empty glass back into my hand, as though it were something precious and delicate she were giving me.

It was almost comical, like it were a scene in a late night drive-in movie.

Consider the scene, and imagine there’s a camera somewhere rolling. She’s standing there in front of me, completely naked with her fuzzy, pre-teen pubic hairs showing, and she’s dripping wet.

The viewer can see, she’s standing in a half filled tub, overflowing with bubbles. It almost seemed like it were a pre-arranged romance scene taken from the Nicole Kidman movie, “Birth.” Which ironically was in pre-production around this same time, and which the girls and their mother watched on cable in the summer of 2004 at their grandmother’s home in Roseburg.

So to the viewer, it looks like the young undressed actress is handing a half filled glass of expensive champagne or vodka to a man who appears to be her older lover, since the viewer can see no biological similarities between the two.

Obviously, they seem very comfortable together, since after all, she is completely naked, standing in a bubble bath and leaning against him.

She doesn’t want him to spill a drop of the precious liquid. As perhaps the producer planned it, by telling his young actress to use both hands to very carefully exchange the precious fluids with the barefoot man standing before her. He is only wearing a pair of nylon running shorts, which the eager viewer knows can be easily removed.

The inference in what the overly-friendly naked girl’s doing and what the liquid represents is perfectly clear to the voyeur , who also doesn’t want either of them to waste a drop.

When it happened, instead of sitting back down right away or moving away when she handed me back the glass, she just kept leaning into me, dripping wet, waiting.

Honestly, at that moment it would have been so easy for me to have taken advantage of this situation, as she seemed to want me to do, and rubbed my hands up and down her body. I could have dropped to my knees and carefully began to explore her naked legs, starting with her toes. And to keep her from getting nervous, maybe I tickle her toes a little causing her to giggle, while I’m seductively telling her what beautiful toes she has.

As I use my hands to quickly worked my way up her legs, I would bet she wouldn’t have stopped me.

And because of the shock, she would have probably only giggled, if I had suddenly, gently cupped her bottom with my hands and quickly began softly kissing her fresh pubic hairs.

So it’s clear, that’s not what I did! Although, it sure seemed like that’s what she wanted me to do, as I felt her pushing her entire body into me.

Why would she deliberately leave the door open and unlocked while she was taking a bath and everyone else was gone, and she was home alone with her mom’s boyfriend? What did she really want from me? Just ice water?

Or, in her confused mind, was she testing me to see just how far I would go? She didn’t seem to have a real good plan about what to do if I failed her test and accepted the generous offer, and then turned off the light, turned on the fan, and quietly locked the bathroom door. And then, quickly pulled off my shorts?

But maybe before doing any of this, I first tell her I have to pee, and tell her not to peek, as I turn off the light and lock the door, and turn on the noisy fan so she won’t hear me pee, or so she thinks.

Given all of this, do you think she would have minded if a few moments later I had quietly slipped off my shorts and stepped into the tub, without first turning on the light and opening the door?

I’ll bet, she probably wouldn’t say a word, and may even be a little excited by the sudden surprise, finding me sitting naked next to her in the tub?

But back here in reality, none of this happened! But if I were the creep they claimed, it could have easily happened this way. I had the perfect opportunity, and apparently, a willing partner, but obviously, I didn’t have the motivation required to commit the act, ever.

It sure seems mighty coincidental that the State of Oregon didn’t come after me until three years later when I had threatened to expose Christel for providing sexually graphic material to her girls.

It happened while we sat outside my apartment in Lake Oswego in the spring of 2004, just after awe returned from her Ford Foundation Graduation Dinner. I angrily told her (and her youngest daughter who was listening from the back seat) I was planning to take our son to live in Florida, where my parents live. And that may have been all the motivation all three of them needed to blame me.

So I have to ask the question. Did her mom (or maybe someone else) give the oldest daughter the dumb idea of getting naked, getting into the tub, and filling it with bubbles? And then give her the really dumb idea of calling me in there to join her?

Was it only to test my character, or perhaps, was it someone who wanted (or needed) to get some dirt on me that could be used later, if needed?

And so who was it who had the really stupid idea of trying to get me to touch her young developing body that morning, since I’m pretty sure that’s was the plan since no one would be watching (except maybe a hidden camera)?

On the other hand, there may have been no camera any where. And it may have entirely been the older daughter’s idea. I don’t know, except why would her mother give her amorous daughter, who may have already begun ovulating, this perfect opportunity to fool around with her mother’s boyfriend, especially after what Christel had seen that afternoon on the couch when her naked daughter was playfully simulating having sex in front of her mom and little sister?

I can’t help but also suspect that the older daughter’s closest friend, who testified at the grand jury, was also involved in trying to set me up.

When we lived in Beaverton, I once told Christel that I had overheard a conversation between the three girls that suggested that the friend, who may have been gay, was experimenting sexually with both of the girls.

For the record, the younger daughter was almost four years younger than the friend who testified. What ever the two older girls wanted to do with each other was nobody’s business. I knew that. But if the family friend was sexually experimenting with the younger daughter, then she had committed a felony, and probably said what the police and prosecutor wanted her to say in order to hide her own bad behavior.

Christel blew it off, and we never spoke about it again. She said that this was perfectly normal for kids to experiment sexually. But she may have also told her older daughter about our conversation, who told her friend and her little sister. I suspect they understood that her friend had committed a serious crime against the younger sister. And the older daughter had witnessed it. So they figured they had no choice other than to let her stay home from school and hopefully, get me to try something. And when that didn’t work, maybe one or more of them lied to the grand jury and said I did something I never did. They may have also told the grand jury I wasn’t completely blind.

For the record, I haven’t had useable vision for over thirty years, about six or seven years before I met Christel. However, when a game came on, I would often bury my face against a small TV while lying in bed, even though I couldn’t see anything on the screen except moving light and shadows. I suppose anyone peeking through the window would assume I was watching television, but they would be wrong.

That’s why I thing Detective Marley and the Deputy District Attorney, Gregory Olson, were in on it, intentionally misleading the grand jury about my lack of vision. Christel said they both wanted her to lie to the grand jury and say I hit her, which I never did.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone lied about my vision. And it wouldn’t be the first time Olson had compromised his position with the Washington County District Attorneys Office. According to the Oregon BAR Olson was suspended a year later for encouraging a witness to lie under oath.

It’s very possible that what happened that day was an idea that came from the girls’ “family friend,” who may have talked the older daughter into finding a way to stay home from school with me. And she may have been the one who convinced her to get naked, get in the tub, and see how far it would go. Did either of them think about how far would be too far, before it was too late?

This is what I overheard, and may have been the reason they all needed to lie.

I was in the kitchen and the three of them were in the living-room, which is attached to the kitchen and the dining room at both ends. So the reader knows, The apartment is very small. So, I clearly heard the younger daughter say something like, “But it tasted funny.”

The older girls quickly told her to shut up, and tried to hush her.

Not understanding, she began to panic, and hurriedly said, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry Linzy! Can I try again, please, please!”

So I wondered, what tasted funny? Why did she want to do it again? What was she talking about? And why were the older girls so worried about me hearing what she was saying?

I told Christel, I think I know what they were talking about. I know it’s an acquired taste, like garlic or fried onions, that wouldn’t likely appeal to a six-year-old.

So, it’s very likely that the friend had, or let, the younger girl perform oral sex on her. And since she was only six-years-old when this happened. Because of the age difference, the older girls probably figured out it was a serious crime.

Maybe the older girls knew I had overheard what they said, and they figured they had to get me in some kind of trouble, so they tried to get me to do something to the older daughter. And they probably told the younger girl that she would also be in trouble if the truth ever came out.

No matter what, no one can argue that Christel was the one who ultimately decided to set up these arrangements. And she was willing to ignore the possible sexual abuse committed against her younger daughter by the family friend.

Think about it, the sexually-curious older daughter and me were left completely alone by her mother for more than five hours that day. And the very first thing the older daughter decided to do was to take a bath and invite me into the bathroom.

If I had wanted to seduce or rape her, there was plenty of time and opportunity to do almost anything that I wanted. But, as I have said repeatedly, nothing sexual ever happened between us.

Nevertheless, they have taken away my son and completely destroyed my life, and destroyed any hope I ever had to be successful by placing this label on me.

Despite this, I am truly concerned about what became of the older daughter and her little brother and sister. And the other sad part of this story, as a lot of poor fathers know, is that I was told any attempt to contact any of them, without a lawyer, could also be considered a crime. It would be up to the discretion of the same persecutors who destroyed my life and help steal my son.

If I could afford a real lawyer, and if they had ever asked me these questions in front of a jury under oath about what I knew or suspected about the oldest daughter’s sexual experience, or possible sexual abuse, this is what I would have said:
Q: Did you ever have any sort of sex with either of Christel’s daughters?

A: No.

Q: Did you ever intentionally touch either of her daughters below the waist?

A: No, never.

Q: Do you think there was anything sexual going on between her and Rick or his boys?

A: It’s very possible something had been going on around or before that time, when Christel and I first moved in together, in the fall of 2001. I noticed right away it was a very sexually-charged environment, and Christel told me they were regularly dosing the younger girl with Benadryl in the evenings to give Rick and her some privacy. So there were lots of opportunities for any of them to “fool around,” sexually.

Q: Do you think the older daughter was having intercourse with either of the teenage boys any time during 2001 or before that?

A: It’s possible she was having, or had already had, intercourse with one of Rick’s boys. But that’s just a guess, based on the environment and opportunity.

Christel said Rick’s teenage boys had been exposed to a lot of explicit sexual material. And I understand the boys would often sleep over night in the living room with both of the girls watching movies, while the adults were upstairs.

Q: Do you think she had done anything sexual with her father?

A: Yes, very possible. For a lot of reasons.

This one time when I was visiting, I noticed his daughter was sitting in his lap in the rocking chair. He would tickle her and bounce her on his lap next to me. And there was something about her giggle and the way I could tell she kept looking over at me, which made me think she was feeling uncomfortable about what he was doing to her in front of me. How far was he willing to go in private, I did wonder.

Besides, since she was a nine -year-old girl, and definitely not a small toddler, the behavior I “witnessed” I suppose could be considered a form of sexual harassment, or maybe even sexual abuse.

I remember. he would stop for a minute or two, and then tickle her again, while we were all pretending to watch TV. Except this would always get her jumping around on his lap again, and forcing a giggle, which made me a little uncomfortable. And like I said, I got this strong feeling that she didn’t want him doing it, for some reason, but couldn’t tell him to stop.

Q: Do you think they had ever had intercourse?

A: It’s possible, but truthfully, I don’t know if anything like that ever happened. She often stayed over night in this rooming house on 8th Street. They slept together on the floor, and there was definitely lots of opportunities I suppose if he got the urge and made it into some kind of game under the covers, after a few beers. Once in Beaverton when he spent the night and he and his daughter slept in the living room Christel found a bottle of lotion under the covers where they had slept.

I noticed, sometimes the older daughter was very shy, but then, other times she seemed very mature, sexually. On these occasions, she didn’t seem in the least bit shy about her own sexuality whenever I was around.