Falling Into Routine
Copyright© 2025 by ChillWriter338
Chapter 3: Binge Prep
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 3: Binge Prep - Childhood friends looking for true love and ready to start a family deny how perfect a couple they would make together by getting as close as possible. The secret plan to keep from falling into each other's arms - follow the same routine. Re-write so read from the beginning.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction FemaleDom Light Bond Polygamy/Polyamory Black Male Hispanic Female Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Big Breasts Size 2nd POV Slow
Prepping for Comfort
I finished my workout, hit the shower, and started pulling together snacks for our latest binge session. Fresh fruit, sliced cheese, wheat crackers, and flavored water—healthy enough to avoid guilt, satisfying enough to keep us happy while we vegetated on the couch.
Carla and I had been doing this forever. Since we were kids. These Sunday post-workout marathons were our routine, our anchor. Every week felt more necessary than the last.
She’d moved back in next door about a year ago. I’d been back longer—five years, ever since my dad died. Lung cancer. Afterward, I stuck around to help my mom through chemo. She survived, twice, and when she finally felt well enough to leave, she retired back home to Israel.
I missed her. We talked daily. But once Carla moved back, it was like my mom saw the shift and let go. She stopped nudging me about dating. Maybe she thought I wasn’t alone anymore.
She was right. Even if we didn’t call it that.
Grocery Bag Invasion
A knock on the door.
“Open up, slowpoke. I brought reinforcements.”
Carla stood there barefoot in a tank top, two grocery bags cradled in her arms, her hair damp, her grin teasing. That look meant trouble. Or joy. Usually both.
I pulled the door open.
“You’re still damp,” she said, looking me over. “Did you even towel off?”
“You were early.”
“You were slow,” she shot back, breezing past me into the kitchen. “And I wasn’t about to miss our marathon.”
We unloaded in rhythm—protein bars, popcorn, fruit, energy drinks. She moved through my kitchen like it was hers. She knew every drawer. She’d rearranged my spice rack. Bullied me into better knives. She owned the place more than I did.
I adjusted pillows in the living room while she raided the fridge.
“You want me to put this leftover curry away or is it breakfast?”
“Fridge, por favor. I’m not ready for another spice challenge at eight a.m.”
She laughed. “Coward.”
Crush Reveal
We took our usual positions on the sectional—me against the armrest, Carla stretched out sideways, her feet tucked under my thigh. Warm. Familiar. Dangerous.
Halfway through the second episode, she nudged me with her heel.
“Yenni dropped by yesterday. Brought empanadas.”
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