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Wild Man


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1998

I've always known I was going to be a writer. My dream was to work for a newspaper, but as I graduated from college with a journalism degree, most newspapers were dying a slow death. The internet had pretty much dealt a deadly blow to the printed page. Maybe it was denial, but I was still hopeful that I could work for a major publication -- in a newsroom that smelled of ink.  I was 23 and landed a job at the St. Louis Dispatch as a reporter. I wasn't real fond of the city (they tended to turn up their noses who weren't born there), but I loved the work environment. I didn't get to do much except pull stories from the A.P. wire and cover the stories nobody else was interested in. Other guys might have been bored, but I was content.  I didn't even mind being the one to go pick up lunch orders. The old guys I worked with barely ever talked to me, but didn't seem to mind my presence. 

About three months into my job, I started hearing about how "The Wild Child" was in trouble again. I'd heard about him in bits and pieces, but didn't know the whole story. From bits ad pieces of conversation I'd overheard, The Wild Child was this guy who'd been found down in the Ozark woods somewhere. He either been brought up in the wild or found there with no adults around or something. He'd been sort of rehabilitated an relocated here to St. Louis.  This was years ago and he was a grown man now...and always getting in trouble with the law. It seemed like everybody always knew what he was up to. I asked one of the friendlier guys about him and he didn't know where to start. 

"If you want to know more, go to our video library and watch the documentary HBO did about him. It's old, but has a lot of information. It's called 'Ozark Wild Child' or 'Wild Child of the Ozarks' or something like that."

So I went to the library and finally found it. My God! No wonder he was such a topic of conversation!

He was found living in a tiny shack somewhere deep in a forest. He was all by himself at the age of 9, malnourished and sick. Investigators found out that he'd been raised by two uncles who were alcoholics and drug addicts. They'd abused him physically and never enrolled him in school. They went missing and the boy had been left alone for nearly two years. He ate what he could find and somehow survived before hunters found him. He was barely verbal and couldn't really help authorities with many details. Social Services whisked him away to an institution here in St. Louis. I guess they did their best to rehabilitate and educate him with only modest success.  There was an attempt to "mainstream" him in a public school's Special Education class, but he only lasted a few days. He was "inappropriate" around both girls and boys in his class. He would also fly into rages, soil himself and shed his clothes. He was taken straight to an institution and not really heard from again until he was released to a halfway house at the age of 22. "John" was the fake name they gave him. He behaved himself for a while, but then started getting in trouble again. He'd been accused of indecent exposure multiple times and also of molesting two women in he park. He spent 18 months in prison and then placed in a stricter halfway home. He was ultimately allowed the freedom to live on his own, but pretty much unemployable. The last segment of the program was an interview with him in his little subsidized apartment. 

I was immediately struck by how darkly good-looking he was. He had long black hair and a messy beard, but his eyes were black and deeply sorrowful. He wasn't very good with words but mumbled something about trying to learn and be "a better person". The End.

I stayed in the library and used the computer to search for more about John since the documentary came out three years ago. I finally found out what all the whispering was about. Apparently, he'd been arrested several times for groping and molesting men and women. Two women had accused him of giving them a venereal disease, but never showed up to court to testify. It was alleged he was infected with HIV as well. He was imprisoned again, but was free as of two months ago. Now there was word he was back to his old ways, but nothing had been confirmed. I learned from one of the secretaries that there were certain parks that were always empty because The Wild Man had been seen there. I needed to know more. No detail was too small.

I went to my manager and asked if I could do a follow-up on John, but he refused.

'"We're liable for anything that happens to you on the job. I'm not sending you somewhere to get raped or killed and then get sued. Drop it".

I went back to my regular job of covering civil cases and boring city hall news. There was a round of lay-offs and my manager was let go. I made an appointment to see the editor. I wanted this story to happen.

"What's your name?"

"My name is Dennis, Sir. I've been here for almost a year. I'm a good writer".

"Dennis, huh? Well, I'm going to tell you some things that you can never repeat...to ANYONE. Can I trust you?"

"Absolutely". I was holding my breath.

"First of all -- This paper is being purchased by a big conglomerate, so it's not gonna be my problem if you put yourself in danger. I could give a shit if Wild Man cuts your throat, but I'd like a nice severance when I leave here next month. If you write something that sells a lot of papers, it'll be more money in my pocket".

And then he handed me two pieces of paper. "That one page contains the contact information for his social worker. The second is the contact information for Wild Man himself. I got it from a cop who's one of my best drinking buddies. Use whichever one you want. Now get out of my office".

I took the pages and stood up to leave,

"Dennis? You got any family?"

"Yes sir. My parents and two younger sisters. They live in Colorado".

"Give them a call this weekend. Say 'hello' and talk".

"I will".

I didn't. I was too eager for a call to Wild Man. I sat on my living room floor and dialed his number.

"Hello. Hi."

"Is this John?"

"Yes. It is John. Who are you?" 

"My name is Dennis. I'm a reporter for The Dispatch".

(silence)

"But that's just what I do for a job. I'd like to meet you".

"As my friend?"

"Yes. I want to meet you and talk to you as a friend".

"I like friends. You sound like a friend. Come over now". What? Now? I was prepared to maybe meet him next week sometime, but now? It was almost nighttime.

"OK. Would you like me to bring you anything?"

"Yes. Bring me a hamburger please. I am hungry".

"OK. I'm not far away. I'll be there soon".

I grabbed a notebook, some pens and left. I stopped at Wendy's and bought the biggest, loaded-up burger they had. He didn't live that far away. I drove past a park that was one of the ones he'd been rumored to haunt. His building was well-maintained but very sad looking...as was the rest of the neighborhood. At least my car was too crappy to steal.

I knocked on his door. And there he was. Wild Man. He'd cleaned himself up a little since the documentary. His beard was gone and replaced with just some dark stubble. He'd also had an extreme haircut -- probably by an amateur. It was short but very uneven. He was thin and just a shade taller than me. 

"Come inside, Dennis. Is that my hamburger?" He motioned toward the bag I was carrying.

"Yeah. I hope you like it".

He took if from me and asked me what the notebook was for. "That is a very nice notebook. I can do the whole alphabet -- let me show you".

He was only wearing a pair of jockey shorts that looked brand new. I thought he was going to eat the burger, but put it in a cabinet instead. If I'm not mistaken, I saw two full glasses of milk in there too. Weird.

He had me sit on the floor with him as he took my notebook and a pen and started slowly writing out the alphabet. He then started making a drawing of sorts. Wild Man proudly showed the page to me. The alphabet was crude, but accurate except for the exclusion of the letter "J". The drawing kind of looked like a kite...or a house...or something. 

"That is yours now, Dennis. You can have it".

"You did a good job!"

"I can do numbers for you too, but not now. Talk to me. Want to watch TV with me? We can watch TV".

"Sure".

He stood up and I got a good look at his body. He had a very nice bulge in his underwear, but it was hard to tell from my angle on the floor and the low lighting. 

"Get up now, Dennis. You can sit on the couch next to me".

Cartoons. I might have guessed we would watch cartoons. John seemed just as amused by the commercials as he was by the Rugrats or whatever they were.

"Can I ask you a question, John?"

"NO! MY NAME IS JONAH! You be quiet now".

Sorry".

"QUIET!!!"

Well, I guess I was going to watch cartoons now. I had my story already. I just had to remember every detail.

'i am sorry I yelled, Dennis".

"It's okay, Jonah".

More silence. And then I couldn't help but notice he had his left hand in his underwear.

"I am very sorry for yelling. I will not do t again".

"It's all forgotten now, Friend".

"Do you like to have fun, Dennis?"

"Yes. Fun is fun to have". God, I was talking like him now.

"Let me show something that is fun". He stood up and let his underwear drop to the floor. His dick has long, fat and thickly-veined. And it also had weird bumps here and there. He started jacking off.

I watched. It was amazing and somewhat hot. 

"You do it now too, Dennis".

I slipped off my shoes, socks and pants. I was hard. This man excited me. 

"Shirt. Take off your shirt now".

I did.

"I can squirt juice from my part. but I like to make it last".

I didn't know what to do or say next.

"Dennis?"

"Yes?"

"The nurse said I have sickness in this part of me. Do you think I do?"

"No, Jonah. You are not sick. You are perfect".

"I want to have more fun now. Do you?"

I did. I got up off the couch and knelt before him. I took his big, weird dick in my mouth. He almost screamed with pleasure. I started sucking him.


That feels good to me. But you better stop, I have too much juice in there".

I didn't stop. He humped my face and shot a major load in my throat and mouth.  I came at that moment too. 

"Thank you, Dennis. I want to have more fun!"

We sat back down on the couch and watched Square Sponge Guy for awhile. I must have fallen asleep for a bit. As I drifted off, I wondered what kind of STDs I had now. 

"Wake up. Dennis!"

We were both still naked. Talk about unprofessional. "You missed all the best parts!"

"Sorry, Jonah. What time is it?"

"I can tell time! I can tell by the clock on the cable box that it is 11 o'clock. The phone will ring soon. Cheryl will make sure I am at home and not out being bad".

The phone rang and Jonah answered it. I almost went back to sleep.  

"Wake up, Dennis. Why do you sleep so much? I want to have more fun!"

"Sure, Jonah. What do you want to do?"

"You know that place in your bottom where your bathroom comes out?"

"Uh...yes."

"Don't say 'uh'. Well, I can put my juice in there." 

I knew what he meant.

"You want to put your part in my bottom?"

"Yes. You're my friend and I love you. Let's go"

I thought we'd be going to his bedroom, but Wild Man just pushed me back down to the floor. He made me get on all fours, and started mounting me from behind.  He pushed himself slowly in as I tried not to scream. I let a small yelp as he went deeper.

"Be quiet now. We can yell outside, but not in here. Want to go outside later?"

He was still thrusting his wild dick in me and kept picking up the pace. Faster and faster.

"I've got too much juice again!!!"

And then he stayed still, holding my hips and breathing heavy. The Wild Man had fucked me. 

Boy did he ever. I had herpes, gono, and of course, HIV. My fault. I had insider information, but pretended not to.

We stayed in touch over the phone for a few weeks as I composed my story. He begged me to come over again for more "fun". I did. A few times. I had a love for Wild Man, but we were better off without each other. 

So I wrote an article including most of what you've read here. The newspaper was sold and the editor retired. I decided to submit the story to "Rolling Stone" instead. It was reprinted everywhere and I got some great job offers from some big publications. I took almost all the work I was offered, but I couldn't leave St. Louis. It was my home now, and  had to take good care of my friend, The Wild Man.

 

 

 

 

 

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