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CONFESSIONS: GAY FOR PAY
By Evelyn Wren
Copyright 2012 Evelyn Wren
Smashwords Edition
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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I’ve always loved expensive things. Even when I was a boy, I would obsess over my belongings, everything from my clothes to my toys, and I kept a scrapbook filled with pictures of all of the wonderful things I wanted. I’d spend hours pretending that I was a prince or the president. I wouldn’t pretend to lead my people, though; I’d pretend to shop.
Unfortunately, my parents’ income never did quite measure up to my expectations. I was the kid who always got the weird, off brand toys for Christmas. Instead of Sea Monkeys, I had Underwater Circus Pets. When all my friends got Nintendos, I received a crappy Konami Handheld Baseball game. I was ashamed of the cheap garbage that my parents struggled to purchase for me, and I’d usually end up hiding it under my bed or throwing it away so that my friends would never see it.
As I grew, my tastes only became more sophisticated and I developed a talent for shoplifting that would have made a seasoned grifter weep. I’d slip into fitting rooms and walk out wearing designer clothing. Sometimes, I’d leave with several layers of outrageously costly merchandise, only to return some of it in exchange for cash later the same week. By the time I was 16, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of jeans that retailed for under $150. I always had a pocket full of cash.
While other boys groomed themselves in order to attract attention from girls because they were desperate to get laid, I’ve always considered my sexy, popular girlfriends to be my most prized possessions, my trophies. I’ve never actually, truly felt any kind of sexual gratification with any of them, though I would never admit that to anyone publicly. Instead, these girls are just beautiful objects in my collection, something to wear on my arm when I go out at night.