A Year Changes Everything - 4. Chapter 4

"Hey Andrew," I called out to him later that day.

"Yeah."

"You know you mentioned you play poker?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I was wondering whether you'd teach me. I've never played and I'm told every guy at College does."

"Of course, I will," he said, smiling. "When do you want to start?"

"How about this evening?"

"You're not going to that party down at Beaufort House?" he asked, referring to a bar in town.

"To be honest, I'm kind partied out for the next few days, but I don't want to stop you going if you were planning to."

"Nah, I'm could do with a night in too."

"Cool. It's a date," I said with a wink.

That evening he started taking me through the basics, which was kind of boring seeing as I had been playing for years. I had bought a bottle of whisky with my trusty fake ID and we slowly made our way through it, although I made sure Andrew drank much more than me.

After maybe three hours he was pretty drunk.

"You're pretty good for a beginner," he slurred at me.

"I've always been a quick learner," I replied. "Besides I ain't just an extremely handsome face."

He laughed.

"Seeing as we're both as broke as each other, how about we play for different stakes?" I suggested after another half hour in which he got progressively drunker.

"Like what?"

"Strip poker!" I said with a wink.

"I dunno," he said.

"Come on! You're a pro and I'm just a beginner. You'll have me naked in no time!"

I could see him struggling with himself.

"Surely you're not scared of being beat by someone who's only played for three hours?"

"It's not that," he said.

"I think it is. I think you're chicken."

"Fine, fine," he said rising to my bait.

"Excellent! We're both wearing shirts, t-shirts, pants, I’m assuming underwear and socks. Underwear is last to go, obviously, but the rest can go in any order."

We played and I made sure to lose the first few rounds. I'd taken off my shirt, t-shirt and socks and I then made sure to win the next two. He lost his socks and his shirt.

The next hand was long and tense. I knew I'd have to get down to my underwear if I was ever going to tempt him into playing down to the final head to head so I duly lost the hand.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed in mock annoyance.

"Take 'em off, boy!" he said in a stage Southern accent, as relaxed and open as I'd ever seen him.

I sat in my boxer briefs and indicated for him to deal.

"You sure you want to carry on," he said, raising an eye brow.

"I'm not scared. My beginner's luck has got to kick in some time," I replied, filling his glass to the brim with whisky.

He dealt the cards and took a big gulp of the liquor.

I was ruthless in the next two hands and he was soon down to his boxers.

"Here's to the final hand. May the best man win." I said, filling his glass to the brim again, finishing the bottle. My glass was only half full and I knocked it back. Hesitating he did the same, spilling some on his chest.

Five minutes later I called him, laying down a full house.

He stared glassily at my cards.

"Well?" I said, knowing I had him beat.

He got up from the table and stumbled against his chair as he walked over to his bed. His cards were face side down on the table.

"Where're you going?" I asked. "Don't keep me in suspense!"

"You win." he mumbled, sitting down on his bed.

I was about to say something when, to my horror I could see that he'd begun to cry.

"Mate, what's up?" I said, walking over to him. "You can't be that much of a sore loser!"

He smiled slightly.

"I can't believe I'm fucking crying," he said. "Fucking loser." he slapped himself on the head.

"Mate, tell me what's wrong. Please."

"I've wanted to tell you," he said. "I really feel like we've become good friends these last few weeks."

"We have," I said.

"I've never told anyone this. None of my friends at school. Nobody."

Was he about to come out to me?

The only people who know are my father and brother and that's only because it happened to them too."

Huh?! That rules out him coming out of the closet, doesn't it?

"My family, at least the males in my family. We have a . . ." he paused, clearly grasping for the right word. "It's not a 'condition' that's not the right word."

The next pause was longer and I waited, thinking that any interruption on my part would not help him be forthcoming.

"We go through puberty like every other guy. Except . . ."

He paused again, clearly struggling to say the words.

"Except our genitals. They're the last thing to start developing. The very last thing. Right at the end. My Father didn't get pubic hair until he was nearly 19 and my brother was 18 and a half."

"Right," I said. This wasn't what I expected.

"I lost, so I've got to lose my boxers and then you'll see."

With that he got up, turned around, dropped his boxers and stood with his back to me. He then turned around slowly.

I'm ashamed to admit that I actually gasped.

As I've said before, Andrew was tall, broad shouldered, slim but toned. In other words, he had a body most 18 year olds would kill for.

Except for one thing that was now staring me in the face.

Below his six pack, instead of a happy trail leading down from his belly button there was not a hair. In fact, there wasn't a single hair in the area between his belly button and the base of his penis and it was clear that this wasn't because he had shaved it.

As for his penis and balls, well, my 13 year old brother was better endowed them him. His genitals looked like those of your average 12 year old: a small thin penis and small balls, although these were hanging down quite far.

Andrew had gone bright red and I am sure my involuntary gasp had added to his shame.

"Mate, I don't know what to say," I finally said.

"There's nothing you can say. I've just got to wait for nature to take its course. At least that will happen quickly."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, once our genitals start developing they develop quickly. I am pretty sure that my balls have started growing. They feel like they're bigger than they were even at the start of term. I think they're hanging lower."

"Well, there's only one way to find out. You need to start measuring your dick every month or so to keep track."

"Yeah, I started that a few months ago," he said with a sheepish grin. "It's 5.5cm soft at the moment, which is how long it's been for as long as I can remember."

He pulled up his boxers again and we stared at each other.

"I know that that must have been really tough for you," I said. "I just wanted to tell you that I really appreciate you telling me."

"To be honest," he said, breaking into a broad grin "I was getting tired of your lame attempts to see my dick!"

I burst out laughing and he did the same.