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San Andreas Stories: Chapter one

An ongoing slash fanfiction set in the Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas setting
"Yo ese, where are you?"
Carl was still trying to work out the answer to that question, fifteen minutes after he had been dumped here. All he knew was that it was raining, he was wet, and a little further down the road was a large truck stop. He was still making his way down the freeway towards it as he spoke on his cellphone.
"I don't know!" Carl replied, trying to the keep the edge of panic out of his tone. "Everything's fucked up, Ceese. My brothers been shot. We got ambushed by Ballaz, then the cops rolled up and arrested everyone. Tenpenny dropped me in the middle of fuck knows where. He said my brother Sweet's in prison. He said he in deep shit if I don't do what he tells me."
"You got stay calm, ese. First things first, we got to work out where you are and get you somewhere safe. You can't go back to Los Santos, homes."
"You telling me," Carl replied, then asked, his tone hard, "Kendls safe, right?"
"Yeah, homes. Don't need to worry about your sister. I got her with me. You gotta tell me where you are, homes. Deseo ayudarle."
Carl felt his sneakers squishing with each step, as the rain continued to pelt down on him. Even though he was a little off the freeway, keeping his distance from it, the cars still passed like bullets, tires hissing off the wet asphalt. He broke into a light jog as he got closer to the truck stop. It was well populated, and as afternoon began to fade into evening, truckers and other travelers were coming and going from the diner that made up part of the aged complex.
"You see any signs or anything, ese," Cesar's voice was tinny on the other end of the line. "I can hear cars."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on a freeway, near a truck stop. Ah, wait up. There's a sign up in here," Carl said, staring up at it as he approached. He held the phone close to his ear. "Whetstone. Where the fuck is Whetstone?"
"I know that area, it's outside Los Santos. Can you see water?"
Despite the heavy rain and mists that had fallen on the area, Carl could make out enough of what looked like Los Santos way back in the distance. Beyond the freeway though rolled what seemed like endless sea.
"Yeah I'm on the coast."
"I know where you are, ese. You on a truck stop between Los Santos and Angel Pines. I'm going to take Kendl somewhere safe, then I'm going to come get you, homes."
"You better make sure my sisters safe. If Tenpenny or any Grove Street get her - "
"Don't stress it, homes. She mean as much to me as she does to you. I'm well out of Los Santos anyway. Just stay put, I'll take you up to a place I got in Angel Pines. You can hide out till we can work out what to do next."
"Aiight," Carl replied quietly. He was still stressing over his sister, among a million other things, but the plan was as good as any. Cesar continued to convince him with his confident tone.
"Chill, dude. Best thing you can do right now is lay low for a bit. Things are too hot in Los Santos. We'll get you some place Tenpenny or Grove Street can't find you."
Carl could believe there was somewhere his old crew couldn't find him, but he wasn't so sure he could lose Tenpenny that easily. The crooked cop had found him so far whenever he had wanted to. He had probably dumped him out here for a reason and could probably find him out here too. Carl stalked up to the side of the truck stop complex and stared along the chainlink fence line.
"I owe you. Ceese."
"It's ok, homes. I be there as soon as I can."
Carl hung up, shoving the cellphone away in the pocket of his long black shorts. They were about as sodden as the black tank top he was wearing, and the state of his shoes only added further misery to his situation. First thing he had to do was get the fuck out of this weather, but he felt a sudden crush of paranoia as he looked at the bright lights of the diner. Carl pulled himself up over the fence and dropped down the other side, heading instead for some cover near the back of the building.
Things couldn't get more fucked up than this. The crew that he had helped rebuild since getting out of jail had turned on him. But not just him, his brother Sweet too! And now Sweet was shot and in jail, and Rider and Smoke were running with Ballaz. Between them they had destroyed everything he'd repaired in the last few months. The pain of betrayal bit deeper than anything else of the situation.
Carl had always been a man of action. It was how he had got this far in life. But sitting in the dark cover of the truck stop, in the middle of fuck-knows-where, Carl couldn't help but brood. It wasn't like him, but not since his mother had been shot had things seemed this messed up. For a moment, he considered the fact that maybe even Cesar could turn on him ...
'Nah, fuck that', Carl thought, trying to clear his mind. 'He's my boy. I can't think like that about him.'
Carl knew that thoughts like that would only mess him up worse. He squatted down and waited, keeping an eye on the traffic that pulled in and out of the stop from his vantage point. It would be too easy to jack a car right now, and just drive to who knows where. But he had to trust Cesar's plan. It was about all he had left.
Carl did his best to keep his mind at the task at hand, despite the fact he was starting to feel the cold. He wasn't dressed for this weather. He could even feel the rain trickling down into the small of his back. It hadn't been raining when he had rushed to save his brother from the Ballaz ambush. But after being grabbed by Tenpenny, cuffed and blindfolded, and dumped in the middle of no where, the skies had opened up.
His tank top was soaked, hugging his thickly muscled upper body. His Chonglers, despite their length, only accentuated the power in his calves, as much as his tank top did of his arms, by what it didn't cover. Since Carl had got back to Los Santos, he had packed on pound after pound of solid muscle. He was dressed low key, but enough to impress the women. His heavy muscle got plenty of remarks on the streets, and plenty of attention behind closed doors.
Carl lurked for the time, as the rain continued to pound the old truck stop. If anyone had spotted him there alone in the shadows, he would have seemed instantly suspicious. Huge, young, black man, street bred and up to no good. Any number of the cars parked out in the lot would have been a good target for theft.
Carl steeled himself against the cold, noticing the sea breezes filling his senses. Keeping close to the side of the building, he waited his time alone. Nothing else mattered now. Not the fact his brothers was in prison, or the fact his crew had betrayed him. Not even his sisters' safety. All that mattered was waiting for Cesar to come pick him up. Always focused on the task at hand.
The mindless chatter of travelers and hick truckers was starting to grind on Carl's nerves by the time a familiar red lowrider rolled off the freeway. Carl stood up and headed out into the lot as Cesar came to a stop amongst the parked cars.
'Farewell to this fucking place', Carl thought, feeling the sting of the cold rain again. He was in Cesar's car a few moments later, and the warmth there was a simple luxury he never knew he had missed. Cesar started back out onto the freeway almost the moment Carl was in.
"Ay, homes, you drenched."
"Fucking straight, Ceese," Carl muttered in return. "I get my hands on Tenpenny, I'ma kill that mah'fucker." It was an idle threat, but it was easy to blame the cop. Everything had gone downhill since he had met him.
"Chill, ese. You got to think about lying low for now."
"I know, I know."
"Just chill, let me drive. I'll get you out to my place in Angel Pines and everything'll be cool," the Hispanic replied, arm rested lightly atop the steering wheel, eyes dead ahead. "You just need time out to work things out."
Cesar certainly didn't have Carl's size, but he was as tall as him. Where Carl was bereft of tattoos, Cesar's fair skin was marked dark by various images and words of the street. His muscular forearms and biceps, up to his tight chest, snug within the embrace of his white wifebeater, and his neck, all inked with tattoos. His hair was buzzed short, and his stache was kept with the same careful attentions. Cesar's tan chinos sagged XL, the same way Carl liked his own clothes. Its long legs caught on black skate shoes.
The freeway outside was a blur to Carl. He tried to chill and let his friend take care of things, letting his guard down for just a moment. The heat wasn't warming him or drying his clothes as quickly as he had hoped. Carl ran a hand over his own buzz cut hairstyle, still feeling the moisture. He wanted to sleep, but he wouldn't afford himself that much.
Time passed silent and unhindered. As coastline faded to forest in the quickly darkening night, Carl began to take an interest in things again. The great, dark shadow of a mountain blackened the night sky above as he looked out the window. He'd never been outside Los Santos. Other than moving to Liberty City, Grove Street had been his life. This was all new.
Before long they were pulling into what seemed like somewhere nested in the middle of nowhere. Compared to Los Santos, it barely passed for civilization. It looked like a collection of streets and buildings that nature was eager to claim back. Short fences held back overgrowing grass on low houses. What few street lights they passed did little to banish a night that seemed all the more dark for being this far out of the city. And still that huge shadow of the mountain hung over all.
"Where the fuck is this?" Carl asked, letting his seat upright again.
"Angel Pines, ese. About the furthest place you can get from anywhere."
"You telling me ..." Carl watched the buildings pass by. It had only been a short minute or two but already they seemed to be pulling back onto the outskirts.
"Well it's your home for the next lil while, dude."
"Fuck that," murmured Carl. This place was too quiet for him.
"Hey, don't stress it, homes. Place got an Ammunation. Can't be half bad!"
Carl managed a bit of a smile at that. It seemed wrong that a hick place like this, in the middle of nowhere could have a gun store. What did that say about the state of things? This didn't seem like gang infested Los Santos. As they pulled into what seemed like a caravan park filled with run down prefabs, Carl started to wonder again what sort of backward place Angel Pines was.
"It's not much, homes, but it's somewhere to hide out for a while. Mi casa es su casa."
"Damn Ceese, I been in some run down places in my time," Carl remarked, staring out at the dark shapes. "But this is some new shit ..."
"Ain't so bad on the inside."
"Best be glad I didn't come up in here during the day ... I'd see how bad you is at investing in property."
Cesar navigated through the narrow gaps of the prefabs, pulling the low slung lowrider up near one of them towards the back. The quiet that came as he turned off the car was startling, especially considering that no sounds of the street came to replace it. Carl got out, noticing first the silence. The smell in the air, that of pine reminded him of air freshener, but this was real pine scent. It was jarring to his senses, familiar, yet entirely new. Carl was grateful at least it wasn't raining any more, even though the cool night air still felt sharp against his skin.
"Probably better we came out here at night, ese," Cesar remarked, as he got out of the car. He rounded it to where Carl stood staring at the broken down prefab, pausing at the trunk to retrieve a worn rucksack. "No one going to know you came here. No ones going to ask questions."
"Don't think I'm not grateful," said Carl, realizing how he was looking at the place, and noticing it in Cesar's expression. "I owe you for this. Big time."
Cesar clapped one of Carl's big shoulders, smiling, "De nada, dude. We in this together, else I wouldn't have called you in on Smoke and Rider. I know what I'm getting myself into, and I know you grateful."
Carl managed a bit of a smile, but the events of the day had long since drained him. He was running on empty. He just nodded in recognition of Cesar's words as the Hispanic headed up to the door of the prefab. Even in the depth of night, Carl could make out the place, and that alone surprised him. Out here it seemed almost like a different sort of dark.
His new home was long and low, little more than a block of barely held together tin sheets. Cesar was mounting what passed as a veranda of sorts, a ramshackle construct of aged wood, unlocking the door. What few windows broke the monotony of the exterior were small, those that Carl could see curtained and dark. He followed hesitantly after Cesar. The outside reminded him of something only a little better than a caravan. As Cesar turned the lights on and closed the door, Carl realized that wasn't too far from the mark inside either.
The interior was small, and built to try and maximize what little space was available. Carl reminded himself that he had seem worse, a lot worse. There was something almost rather snug about the tidy interior, and Cesar had been right about it being better inside.
Antique looking wall lampshades cast a dim light across deep brown, faux wood interiors. One end of the prefab was lined by built in seats, crowned by threadbare, faded green cushions. The tiny TV propped atop one of the storage units reminded Carl of the TVs he had grown up with, barely color and with a reception only just pulled in by a coathanger-turned-aerial. A bar was the only thing that broke the single room between lounge and kitchen, with little thought of dining between. A door at one end was hung with a grimy old blanket. Carl hoped the bedroom and bathroom was beyond. Didn't hicks out in places like this shit outside?
"Like I said, dude, it ain't much, but mi casa es su casa," Cesar remarked, tossing Carl the keys. The big black caught them easily. "It's all yours for as long as you need it."
"As long as it's got a bed and shower, I'm starting not to give a fuck what the place is like."
Cesar dumped the rucksack down on one of the seats, putting a hand on Carl's thick back, "You aughta get out of those wet clothes, ese. There's a shower and a drier though in there passed the bedroom." Cesar nodded towards the blanketed doorframe.
Carl raised an eyebrow as he noticed how Cesar's hand lingered down along his back. He thought it was strange, but the thought passed when the Hispanic walked around him and into the kitchen. He took the chance to drag off his tank top. It peeled off Carl's powerful form, exposing solid muscle. It felt good to be out of it. The place had a strange smell, but it held a curious warmth.
"Sorry the place don't have no food, homes. We should have picked up something for you to eat too."
"All I'm caring about right now is getting a shower and getting some sleep," Carl stood there, bared chested, tank top in hand, staring at Cesar with a look that he hoped conveyed his feelings. He was feeling the fatigue and despite all the help Cesar had given him, he was eager to be alone. "Rest of that shit can wait."
"Fair enough, ese."
Carl stood in silence, staring, watching Cesar watch him. It was a long few moments, the Hispanics eyes casting slow gazes down over his muscular curves. Carl was used to seeing people look at him, and that he dismissed as expected. He wasn't a stranger to being shirtless either. But it seemed to take a little longer than he expected before Cesar finally got the message. He appeared to be spending the time indulging in the views of Carl's husky form.
"I leave you for now then, dude," Cesar remarked quietly. The Hispanic rubbed at the back of his neck a moment and passed Carl by again. Carl took the chance to clap him on the shoulder as he came close.
"Thanks again for all this. I appreciate it."
"De nada, ese." Cesar looked like he remembered something. "Oh yeah, I bought you some clothes and some other things. You ain't my size, ese, all XXL like you are. But I managed to grab some things before I got out of my house. Figured you might need a fresh change."
Carl was surprised, watching Cesar head to the door, "Oh, thanks."
"Like I said, dude, don't mention it." Cesar's expression turned more serious. "Don't open the door for anyone. Just lay low for a while. You need me, call me. In the meanwhile, just chill. Don't worry about nothing. Kendl is safe too. You know I got your back."
"I know," replied Carl, not doubting a word the Hispanic said, despite his previous bout of paranoia. "No one else got my back like you have right now."
Carl waited, and yet Cesar still lingered near the open door a while longer. Eventually he added with an air of finality, "I'm going to take a shower. I'll call you."
"Hasta luego, ese."
Carl closed the door after Cesar had finally left, wondering why it had taken so long. Maybe if it was any other time, he would have wanted to hang out with Cesar, but right now all he wanted was a shower and a bed, and to be left alone. He locked the door, three ways and headed towards the rest of the prefab, ignoring the rucksack.
Pushing through the heavy blanket, Carl found himself in a tiny extension occupied mostly by a double bed. He cussed quietly to himself as he groped for the light switch, and after finding none, skirted about the bed to the darker door beyond. A small window, its curtain drawn back slightly, cast a pale light over another TV, but little else.
The bathroom beyond was smaller still, yet thankfully the light switch was easier to find. It seemed little more than a shower, toilet, washing machine and drier shoved into as little space as possible. Carl took it in for a moment, before opening up the drier and tossing his tank top inside.
Stripping out of what was left of his wet clothing was an ecstasy. Chonglers, then boxers ended up in with the tank top in the drier, leaving his big body naked. The mere act of having a shower was starting to seem like heaven right now. Carl turned it on, avoiding the initially cold water and waiting for it to run through into hot. Soon steam was filling the tiny interior, and sooner still, Carl slipped in under the water.
Carl felt something akin to true pleasure as he felt the warm shower. He let out a long moan, feeling as the water ran over his thick muscles, stripping away the ache and fatigue of the day. It bounced off his big shoulders, running the thick expanse and many deep grooves of his back. He had expected a dribble, but the shower came at a torrent, fingers of warm water working at his dark, muscular form.
There was soap in a hanging dish, set in the corner of the shower box. Carl wondered when it was that Cesar had last come out here, given the place seemed decently stocked. He worked up thick suds over his body, white contrasting over skin like deep cocoa. He worked the rich lather though what little hair crowned his head, feeling as if he was washing back the troubles that had plagued him the whole day.
The air was heavy with heat, and steam. Carl began to feel as if nothing existed outside this shitty little prefab. Surely nothing could feel better than this simple shower. As he placed his hands against the wall of the shower box and let the soap suds slide down over his powerful form, Carl felt the warmth of the water take him. Compared to the hard ache of the day, this was like a lover's slow embrace.
Carl stared down, through the moist mists, watching as the soap rinsed away from him, spiraling down the drain at his feet. Below, beyond steely abdominals, the foggy bathroom air was darkened by the dense blackness of his pubes. The heft of his limp dick, and dark nuts added further depth. Carl ran a hand down over himself, washing some of the errant soap down about his genitals. There was a rich pleasure in touching himself there just lightly, washing about his balls and flaccid hose.
'Fuck,' Carl found himself thinking, suddenly reminded. 'How long has it been since I fucked?' There was that girl he was messing with back in Los Santos, but her hard gangbanging edge unnerved even him. He didn't like that in a girl.
He had all night, and Carl found nothing wrong with his own hand. Not that he had relied on it all that much in his life, especially since he had come back to Los Santos, and even less since he had bulked up so large. The idea quickly felt as appealing as this long shower had become. His member thrilled at his touch, reminding him of the absence of attention there. It had been far too long.
But for now there was no Grove Street. No Tenpenny. Maybe Ceese was right about needing to take time out. Maybe even he could get to like this slower pace, even if it was just for a few days. He could get his mind back in order. And plan his next move. Until then, Carl had time alone, with himself.
Savoring the pleasures tingling through his already half hard cock, Carl abandoned it momentarily to pick up the soap again. He scrubbed heavily about his balls, lathering his thick black pubes up into a luxurious cloud of white. His thick cock flopped languidly about as he continued to his powerful thighs. More soap made his dark muscles white, and still Carl felt the embrace of the water.
'Fuck this feels good ...'
Carl excused his deep breathing, which made his big chest rise and fall with something bordering on excitement. Had it really been that long? He felt almost foolish with the sensations. The soap escaped his big hand, thumping hard against the floor of the shower. Carl bent to retrieve it, feeling the water pound off his expansive back. It ran down over his thick ass, the twin globes of his prominent rear. He felt the water stroking down between the deep crevice between, teasing over his asshole.
Carl dumped the soap back in the dish and began to rinse his husky form off. He took a moment to reach back and slip a hand down between the tight mounts of his ass cheeks, rubbing just lightly at himself there. He felt cleaner than he had in a long time. His cock was still chubby in anticipation of his touch as he washed the soap off himself there, his uncut head bouncing against his corded forearm.
Water escaped the shower box as Carl slid open the door. He turned the shower off, before getting out, big muscles still streaming with water. It puddled on the bathroom floor, adding moisture to an already steamed, small chamber. As cold as it had been outside, the bathroom had quickly become like a comforting cocoon. Carl wasn't surprised to find fresh towels, stacked inside a low cupboard right next to the shower. He was surprised at how many where in there, though.
'Fuck Ceese,' Carl thought, as he pulled out the first one. 'Why the hell you need so many damn towels for?'
Carl barely gave it much more thought as he started to mop at his big chest, rubbing down over broad, cut abs. His big member was still heavy, and he knew it wouldn't disappear unless he dealt to it. Already there was the thought in his mind of the pleasure. His body felt it, a light, lingering electricity in the pit of his stomach. The anticipation kept his size on edge.
Carl dried himself only by half, tying the lush white towel about his waist. He considered putting his clothes on to dry, but with the drier this close to the bed, he expected the noise of it would only keep him up. As tired as he had been, the shower had refreshed him no end. Jack off his cock a little, and he knew he'd sleep well past morning. The bathrooms only window, frosted and perhaps the only decently sized one in the prefab, protested even under his heavy hand, as he pushed it open to let out the steam that made the air thick.
Returning to the bedroom, Carl finally spotted the light. A cord swayed from a light hanging from the ceiling. He left it alone, light cutting in from out in the main room, where he had left the heavy blanket slightly ajar on the doorframe. That warmth still hung in the air, and a slight breeze from the bathroom washed the heat of the shower into the bedroom.
Carl wondered if he could pick up any of the free to air porn stations this far out from Los Santos. Sitting on the end of the double bed, he toyed with the small television a moment. He pawed at his big pec slowly, the sudden shower of static on the screen lighting his deep muscles in stark relief. Confusion washed over his features as he clicked through the channels, drawing nothing but static from each. No aerial, no signal.
Carl turned it off, disappointed, plunging the room back into relative darkness again. He sat a moment longer on the end of the bed, before opening up the cupboards underneath. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he discovered the VCR stored away carefully beneath the TV. More cupboards revealed lines of cassettes. Even in the brief line of light from the kitchen, Carl could make out the titles of some of them. He reached back for the light cord, pulling it. The bulb came on with a quiet click, pealing back the darkness on Cesar's secret stash.
"God damn, homeboy," Carl remarked, marveling as he took stock of the number of cases. "Got enough porn here to send a kid blind for life ..."
There were two shelves of tapes, within three cupboards; the main cupboard that kept the VCR, plus one either side of that. By Carl's reckoning, that was a lot of porn. More than he could count quickly, but he guessed at least 50 tapes. Carl smiled to himself as he perused the titles, suggestive, some of them plays and puns, but all of them lewd. Cesar had outdone himself in giving him a place to hide out. He could entertain himself here a day or two at least.
"Didn't think you were this sort of vato, Ceese," mused Carl. He pulled out one of the tapes at random, already starting to paw at his swollen lap. The urge to ride the towel up his big thighs was strong. "Don't mind if I help myself to your collection though ..."
Carl started to pull the cases out, giving each a good once over: "Sperms Of Endearment". "Rimmerama". "Moulin Splooge". "Big Trouble In Little Vagina". He tossed each of the tapes onto the bed beside him as he continued to make his way through just the closest shelf. "Big, Brown, Bomb Boo-Yow Booty, Brazilian Bitches". "Shes Not a Lesbian ... Shes a Vagitarian".
It seemed strange to think that Cesar might have got himself off to this pretty sizable stash, each tape stored away lovingly. What struck Carl more was the fact that it revealed a little of his Hispanic friends sexual tastes. And that in some cases, they were similar to his own, if this stash was accurate. It felt weird, in the same sort of way finding an older brothers stash of nudie magazines might. To have it confirmed that they were both hot blooded males, both with sexual needs.
Carl pondered which of the tapes he wanted to watch for the night. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do right now than kick back in bed and get himself off. Maybe jack himself off to sleep. Sure, there was no aerial or reception on the television, but he had The Cesar Channel: All Porn, All Night. It made him smile.
Spoilt for choice, Carl returned to the cupboard for more selections. He leaned in a little closer, noticing something, now that he had taken so many of the tapes off the shelf. Pulling back a few more cases, he found a few others pushed up against the back of the cupboard. Maybe they just didn't fit. But the cupboards seemed far too organized for that. Carl could only guess they had fallen back behind the others, but even that didn't seem right. He pulled one out, curious.
At first it just appeared to be one of the many tapes: "Black Bisexuals". The cover showed two lithe black girls, naked and suggestively close, lingering near each others lips. But as Carl checked it out a little closer, he felt a strange sensation run though his big body. It was all he could do but stare, especially as he turned the case over and looked at the gathering of naked bodies on back. Not just girls, but guys as well. The guys stood out to Carl's straight eye, they had the look of street hardened thugs, they could have been any of his boys on appearance. But these thugs hung in each others arms. Two of them were kissing.
"Fuck Ceese," Carl murmured, studying the back of the case. He hoped it might reveal something to prove Cesar's innocence. "This some gay shit ..."
Carl was shaking by the time he shoved the case back where he found it. He had pried deep enough and found out something about Cesar he wished he hadn't. Maybe it was a mistake somehow, but he knew there was no way he was ever going to confront Cesar about it. It put those lingering touches Cesar had given him before he left in a different light.
"Oh hell naw," he said, sharply. Carl jammed the rest of the tapes back away, and closed the cupboard. "I'm not even thinking like that ...."
Carl got up from the end of the bed, stalking out into the kitchen. Cesar was with his sister, he reminded himself. That put all thought that Cesar might be that way inclined out of his head. It was the end of the matter, almost as quickly as it had developed. Carl switched off the lights and prepared to go to bed. Maybe he might check out those tapes tomorrow, but right now, all he felt like doing was going to bed. The shock of finding that tape hidden away in the back had scared him off prying deeper into Cesar's things.
Once he had turned off all the lights and tossed his towel near the television, Carl realized how truly silent it was. No gunshots colored the night air, no passing cars. Those had become so second nature to Carl that he didn't realize he missed them until he found himself out here, where it was really quiet. Naked, he slipped in under the sheets of the bed, finding it strangely soft and comforting. Or maybe he was just more tired than he had thought.
The deep darkness of the place, and the silence took some getting used to. That and his persistent half hardon kept Carl awake. It wasn't much longer before his right hand was easing down about his nuts, something else that was second nature to him. After so long, this felt like heaven, just this simple, soft touch. A man like him needed this. Sex was a constant. One that he didn't realize he had neglected so long until he had been forced to slow down.
'Gonna be a long time out here,' Carl reminded himself, his hand gently fondling his heavy nuts. 'Better get used to this shit. Can't be all that bad.'
Just the slow touching of his balls started Carl's cock on it's steady road to hardness. His muscular legs slowly and instinctively started parting. All too soon after he had climbed into bed, Carl pulled the sheets back down. The cool night air was still crisp from the bathroom window, making his exposed nipples harden, touching over hard skin. It did little to cool the heat that was blazing between his thighs.
Carl didn't think about the trouble that he had seen that day, or even the tapes that he had discovered. This was old school, just him and his hand. And when he was alone with himself, like he used to as a kid, nothing else mattered. Soft moans escaped his lips as his spare hand started exploring down now rock hard abdominals. Fingertips drifting almost tenderly down the well cut flesh, as he thought about how much his body had changed since he was a kid, even since he had returned to Los Santos.
Carl's cock seemed to meet him halfway, thick and heavy against his stomach by the time his hand made it that far. Straight forward and action focused in life, Carl was almost the opposite when pleasuring himself. His body might have changed since he had come back home, but his cock hadn't. A great, thick, veined club of a dick, uncut and blunt. Already it was drooling precum onto his abs, as his hand slipped about its heft.
Carl gently teased himself, pulling back ample foreskin on a bloated crown, smelling the rich scent of juices. He could see the moisture that had fallen in light drips on his stomach. As he pulled his skin back, feeling that turgid hardness throbbing within his grasp, precum started to make his palm wet. It was all he could do to stop himself jacking off with more urgency. Carl could feel the pleasure and need swelling up in him.
His mind seemed to drift back to Cesar, as he wondered whether his friend had laid on this bed and done exactly the same thing. Had he fucked his sister on this bed? Carl's big hand started to stroke more firmly as the questions accompanied the pleasure. Cesar never left Kendl's side. The two probably fucked like rabbits. He was starting to discover Cesar and him were alike in ways he had never thought of before.
For a start they were both oversexed.
Carl groaned deep, feeling his dick twitch. He was too close, and his big chest was rising and falling before his eyes. Beyond, his cock continued to ooze a precum that made his hand slick, and his grasp slurped quietly on his big size. Still he let his other hand stroke and toy with his nuts, careful not to be too rough. His hand experienced with himself from years of practice. Nothing was better than this. No one knew better about getting him off than himself.
Was it true that Cesar had thought about guys? Still those thoughts invaded Carl's quiet time alone. His feet slowly pushed back against the mattress, messing the sheets as he fought with his pleasure. His stomach was overwhelmed with the warm glow of his masturbation.  His mind kept coming back to those tapes, and to Cesar, idle thought and fantasy. Anything was far game for a homeboy when he had his dick in his hand.
It wasn't like Carl hadn't given it a thought or two in his time. He'd helped out that idiot OG Loc, the wannabe gangsta rapper who had spent time in jail just to help his street cred. He was just the sort that a thug would end up fucking in the ass. And truth was Loc relied on Carl for everything. He wouldn't have been what he was now without Carl's help.
'What about you help out your boy in return,' Carl thought, gasping more tightly. He dropped his nuts to toy with his stony nipples. 'Yeah, that's it boy. Down on your fucking knees ...'
Carl fought with himself as his climax threatened to overwhelm him. He was fighting a losing battle, trying to hold back that which a man couldn't. The fantasies in his mind only made it harder. He thought of a warm mouth on his cock. Loc's mouth. Anyone's mouth. Truth was when he was caught in the throes of climax, his mind gave up reason. The only thing that did his thinking was his dick.
Carl was thinking of Cesar as his cock throbbed and shot a rope of clean white cum up over his chest and abs. He could almost hear it fall against his hard muscles, the second coming with equal power. Thick globs of it began to pool within the deep cuts of his stomach, rolling down the heavy curves of his chest, erupting with a release that made Carl moan powerfully. It cut through the night air cleanly.
'Fuck it,' Carl thought, feeling the surge of his seed through the thick trunk still grasped in his hand. 'Let them hear if they wanna. 'Fucking Grove Street up in here ... represent ...'
Carl felt the cum running cool down the sides of his hot body as his climax faded. He rose quickly, not wanting to get it on the sheets, and the pool of it began to sluice down towards his thick pubes as he did. He grabbed the towel he had discarded and began to staunch the spreading mess. Mopping and rubbing at himself, and then his big member. Another thick bead of cum revealed itself at his piss slit as he pulled his fist up on his cock. Carl moped that away too, knowing it would only wet the sheets if he missed it.
"That was some fucking nice shit," Carl murmured to himself, tossing the towel again. He stunk of cum, but weariness was starting to set in, and this time he wanted to sleep. Finally, his big cock was starting to go the same way.
Heading back to bed, Carl shifted over to the other side, to avoid the moist warmth his body had created during his jacking off. The cool embrace of the unoccupied side of the bed comforted him, his eyelids heavy with sleep now he was cruising in the bliss of his post orgasm. Now he had nutted, everything was forgotten. He was satisfied, at least for now.
Carl's eyes opened sharply as he heard a creak. It sounded like a heavy foot on wood, outside. The sound of a cricket out here could keep him awake, the sound of movement outside was like a gunshot. Carl's heart started to pound again, this time not from sexual excitement. No one was supposed to be out here. No one knew he was here. And of course Tenpenny hadn't left him with a gun.
The footsteps creaked across the veranda outside. The knock on the door broke the silence louder than anything had this far. As Carl shot upright in his bed, he knew some shit was about to go down.

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