Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
27: Confessing to Mia
Coming of Age Sex Story: 27: Confessing to Mia - Bharath always thought going to America would mean fast love, wild parties, and maybe a stewardess or two. What he got instead? A busted duffel bag, a crying baby on the plane, and dormmates he never thought could exist in real life. Thrown into the chaos of Georgia Tech’s freshman year, Bharath begins an unforgettable journey of awkward first crushes and culture shocks. A slow-burn, emotionally rich harem romance set in the nostalgic 90s—full of laughter, lust, and longing.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Consensual Fiction Humor School Sharing Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory White Female Hispanic Female Indian Female
The air inside Sarah’s house was warm and cinnamon-scented, a contrast to the brisk chill of the November evening outside. The overhead lights were soft, and a couple of warm-toned lamps lit up the corners of the living room, giving the place a glow that felt more like home than any college house had a right to.
Marisol linked her arm through Mia’s the moment they stepped through the door.
“Come on,” she grinned. “Let’s get you changed before you turn into an icicle. I’ve got something you can borrow.”
Mia laughed. “Is it going to be one of your ancient high school sweatshirts?”
“It’s clean,” Marisol teased. “And it’s got soul.”
They disappeared into the back bedroom, giggling as they passed down a narrow hallway that smelled faintly of lavender and laundry detergent.
Inside the bedroom, the lamp on the nightstand cast a warm halo over the room. The bed was unmade-pillow dents and blankets tossed in a way that hinted at a life being lived in full.
Mia sat on the edge of it and pulled off her boots while Marisol rummaged through a drawer.
“You’ve been living here a while?” Mia asked.
“Mostly. The dorm gets ... tricky.” Marisol straightened with a triumphant noise and tossed Mia a t-shirt two sizes too big. “I bounce back and forth. But here, we can actually cook, be loud, stay up late. It’s more ‘us.’”
Mia raised a brow. “Who’s ‘us,’ exactly?”
“Me, Bharath ... and Sarah. And whoever else crashes here depending on the night.”
“Mm.” Mia pulled the hoodie over her head and caught a whiff of fabric softener and something warm and spicy underneath. She didn’t comment on it.
They both changed into pajama bottoms-Mia in comfy cotton bottoms and Marisol in flannel-and curled up for a moment on the bed, giggling like they used to during summer nights when their mom thought they were asleep.
“I didn’t realize how much I missed this,” Mia said quietly.
Marisol looked over at her sister. “Me either.”
It surprised them both, how easy this felt. How all the distance of the past few months, the unspoken tension of growing up and apart, seemed to melt in the comfort of soft clothes and the hum of sisterhood.
Then, Marisol stood and held out a hand. “Let’s go make fun of whatever movie Bharath hates the most.”
Back in the living room, Sarah had changed into a matching navy-blue pajama set, her silky hair now let down in soft waves. She looked like she’d stepped out of a vintage sleepwear catalog-only real, and stupidly, unfairly pretty. Like someone Mia might’ve hated in high school ... if she weren’t smiling like that.
Bharath was already seated cross-legged on the couch, wearing an old faded t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked so relaxed, like the day hadn’t touched him at all.
The coffee table had been cleared to make space for a bowl of pretzels, and a bottle of Coke.
“You ready?” Sarah asked, holding up two VHS tapes. “We’ve narrowed it down.”
“We? I wanted to watch Die Hard or Terminator 2,” muttered Bharath sadly.
“Hush you. Choice one,” Marisol said, dramatically presenting Ever After like it was a holy artifact. “Or choice two...” she gestured to Sarah, who raised the second option.
Practical Magic.
Mia gasped. “Wait. These are both amazing.”
Bharath groaned softly. “I’m outnumbered, aren’t I? Can’t we watch a fun movie like Starship Troopers or something? Denise Richards is hot in that one.”
Sarah tossed a pillow at him. “You don’t get a vote. You get cuddles.”
Marisol winked. “And maybe foot rubs if you’re good.”
Mia giggled and plopped into a comfy armchair. “Let’s go with Practical Magic. It’s weird and witchy and everyone looks great in the moonlight.”
Sarah popped the tape into the VCR while Marisol dimmed the lights.
Bharath stretched out and shifted so he sat in the middle of the couch, and as if it were choreographed, Marisol and Sarah flanked him on either side-legs tucked under, arms draped casually across his middle. Marisol’s head nestled into his shoulder while Sarah’s arm slid around his waist like it belonged there.
Mia blinked.
Something in her stomach tightened-so quickly, she almost didn’t notice it.
She’d expected to see Marisol cuddle Bharath. That made sense. But Sarah? It wasn’t just the way Sarah curled into him - it was how Bharath’s fingers found her spine like muscle memory. No hesitation. No boundaries. Like she’d always belonged there. The way her body curved toward him, the way his hand casually found the small of her back-it was too familiar. Too natural.
I wish that were me, Mia thought before she could stop herself.
The thought hit like a spark-hot, immediate, and irrational.
She looked away, cheeks flushing. God, what’s wrong with me? He’s my sister’s boyfriend.
And yet ... she couldn’t ignore the way Sarah looked at him. Like he was hers, too.
But thirty minutes into the movie, she realized something was ... off. Somewhere between the midnight margaritas and Sandra Bullock’s spellwork, Mia’s brain began to itch.
They weren’t just close. They were close.
Marisol had curled her hand around Bharath’s wrist. Sarah had her head resting just below his jaw, fingers absentmindedly tracing his chest. Bharath hadn’t moved-he was not even watching the movie. He had his eyes closed with an expression that could almost be described as peaceful-but his arms were comfortably around both girls, one hand stroking Marisol’s hair, the other resting low on Sarah’s back.
Mia’s gaze darted between them. Marisol. Bharath. Sarah.
Their faces were calm. This wasn’t awkward for them. They weren’t trying to hide it. Because to them, this wasn’t a secret. It was life.
Mia’s eyes widened.
“Wait,” she blurted. “What is happening?”
The room went still.
Sarah paused the VCR without a word.
Marisol looked up, blinking, as if pulled from a nap.
Bharath turned his head slowly. “Mia-”
“No, seriously,” Mia said, sitting up straighter. “What is this? Why are both of you-” she pointed at Marisol and Sarah, “-wrapped around him like he’s your personal space heater?”
Marisol smiled faintly. “Well, he is.”
Sarah added gently, “He runs hot.”
“That’s not an answer.”
A silence settled over them. It wasn’t tense-yet. But it was weighty.
Mia’s heart pounded. Her mind was racing. And yet, what surprised her most was that she didn’t feel ... angry. Not exactly. More stunned. Disoriented.
Marisol shifted to sit upright beside Bharath, her eyes searching her sister’s. “We were going to explain. But we wanted you to see it first.”
“See what?” Mia said slowly.
Bharath met her gaze. His voice was calm. “That what we have ... isn’t typical.”
Mia looked at Sarah, who was watching her with quiet kindness. Then at Marisol, whose fingers were still brushing against Bharath’s thigh like it was second nature.
Something cold and warm and confused swirled in Mia’s chest.
“You’re ... all together?” she said finally. “Like ... you and him and her?”
No one corrected her.
“Oh my God! Since when?” Mia asked, her voice sharper than she meant. “How long has this been going on?”
“We felt something for Sarah the night we met her. But officially, we have been together for a few weeks now,” said Bharath with gravity. “We knew we had something for each other the moment we met. We are soulmates.”
“Soul-what?”
“Mia,” Marisol began, “we didn’t want to keep you in the dark. But it’s a lot to take in. That’s why tonight-”
“You wanted me to see it for myself,” Mia finished. “So it wouldn’t sound insane when you explained.”
Sarah nodded. “Exactly.”
Mia looked at Bharath again, and he was watching her-not apologetic, not defensive, just open. Steady.
She didn’t know what she expected to feel.
Jealousy? Maybe.
Shock? Definitely.
But mostly ... she felt like she was standing at the edge of a pool. The water was unfamiliar, shimmering in the dark, and everyone else was already inside-smiling, arms open, beckoning her in.
And for some reason...
She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to walk away.
The room was too quiet.
The kind of quiet that didn’t feel calm, but loaded-the air thick with the weight of something unspoken, something seismic.
Mia sat still, spine straight, arms folded tightly across her chest as if bracing for a gust of wind. Her legs were curled under her, but she didn’t feel small. She felt compressed. Like she was trying to hold in everything that had just broken loose in her chest.
Her question-You’re all together?-still echoed in her ears.
And here they were - bundled together - looking unrepentant right in front of her when she had asked them the question. Bharath even said that they were soulmates! It sounded ludicrous.
But it hadn’t been followed by awkward laughter or stammering. There were no excuses or clarifications. Just a shared glance between Marisol and Sarah. Just Bharath’s maddening silence, as if he knew that no words would change the truth anyway.
They were all together. Her gorgeous sister. This stunning woman. And him.
Her gaze drifted from Marisol-curled so naturally against Bharath’s side-to Sarah, her hand still casually resting on his chest like it had lived there for years. Bharath didn’t look nervous. He wasn’t trying to explain or backpedal. He just sat between them, quiet and composed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be adored by two women at once.
Mia’s stomach twisted.
Her first instinct had been jealousy. But it faded almost immediately, replaced by something more complicated. Confusion. Curiosity. And the nagging sense that she had walked in halfway through a story that had started without her.
And then came the strangest feeling of all: betrayal.
Not by Bharath. By Marisol.
“You love him,” Mia said, her voice low but steady.
Marisol nodded, serene as ever. “I do. Completely.”
Mia’s fingers clenched around the throw pillow in her lap. “Then how can you share him with someone else?”
Sarah looked down politely, as if knowing this wasn’t her moment. Bharath met Mia’s eyes with that same maddening calm, giving her space. But it was Marisol who leaned forward, her voice still soft.
“It’s not what you think.”
Mia’s mind raced. This wasn’t about some fling. It wasn’t about cheating. It wasn’t even about threesomes or curiosity. The affection in the room wasn’t performative or casual.
It was intimate. And deep.
Mia swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how fast her pulse was thudding in her ears.
She wasn’t just witnessing a romantic twist.
She was standing at the edge of something far more intense-and terrifyingly real.
Mia didn’t speak for a long moment. She just stared at her sister-this sister she thought she knew.
Marisol had always been strong. Fierce. Protective. The type of girl who once dumped a guy via a note written on his windshield because he hit on another girl at a party. She was not the type to share. Especially not something like this.
Especially not Bharath.
Mia leaned forward, arms still crossed but eyes locked. “You’re not just saying you’re okay with this. You’re ... what? Happy about it?”
Marisol nodded slowly, eyes calm and clear. “Yes.”
“Why?” Mia snapped. “Why would you ever want to do this? You’re in love with him. I’ve seen it. You look at him like he’s the center of the damn universe.”
Marisol’s lips curved. “Because he is.”
“Then why let someone else into your orbit?”
Mia didn’t mean to sound harsh, but she couldn’t help it. The words tumbled out with the force of someone trying to protect someone they loved-even if she wasn’t sure from what.
“Did he ask you to do this?” Mia demanded. “Did he ... pressure you? Or guilt you? Did he make it seem like if you really loved him, you’d accept this?”
Marisol’s eyes didn’t waver. “No. Never.”
“You swear?”
“I swear.” Marisol reached over, took her hand. “Mia, he would’ve walked away before asking me to accept something I didn’t want. He’s not like that.”
Mia didn’t pull away, but she didn’t relax either. “Then how did this happen? Why even... consider sharing him?”
Marisol took a deep breath and leaned back slightly, searching for the right words. “Because I saw how Sarah looked at him. I saw what it did to him. And I saw something else too-how much love he had to give. How deeply he could hold both of us without pulling away from either.”
“That sounds like something out of a fantasy novel.”
“It felt like one at first,” Marisol admitted. “I was confused too. And I was jealous at the beginning. I won’t lie.”
Mia blinked. “So what changed?”
“I realized Sarah and her feelings towards Bharath weren’t a threat,” she said. “Sarah wasn’t taking something from me. She was adding to it. Her love didn’t make his love for me smaller. It made it stronger.”
Mia shook her head slowly, not in disbelief-but in awe. “I don’t know if I could do that.”
“You don’t have to,” Marisol said gently. “This isn’t a recruitment pitch. It’s just what works for us.”
“But you still love him, right?”
“God, yes,” Marisol said, laughing softly. “More than ever.”
“And you’re not scared she’s going to take him away from you?”
“No,” Marisol said. “Because we’re both his. And he’s ours. He doesn’t have favorites. He gives each of us something different.”
Mia’s voice dropped. “But what if he falls in love with someone else later? A third girl?”
“There is no third girl. I-,” interrupted Bharath.
Marisol smiled faintly as Sarah and her hushed Bharath. “Then we talk. We feel it out. We see what makes sense. We don’t force anything. No one is ever brought in unless everyone’s on board. This isn’t some conquest list for him. It’s a home we build together.”
That stunned Mia.
The word home.
Because that was what the room felt like.
Not a fantasy. Not a dorm hookup gone wild.
But something deeper. Softer. Hard-earned.
And still...
“You’re really not jealous at all?” Mia asked again, quieter this time.
Marisol shrugged. “Sometimes. I mean, I’m human. But it’s never ugly. It’s just ... growing pains. And he’s always there, reminding me how seen I am. How loved I am.”
Sarah spoke up from the other side of the couch, her voice a gentle murmur. “He anchors us. Even when we wobble.”
Mia turned back to Marisol. “But what if she-” She nodded toward Sarah. “What if she touches him in a way that’s yours? Doesn’t that hurt?”
Marisol shook her head. “There’s no such thing as ‘mine’ with him. Not like that. It’s not about territory. It’s about connection. And what we have is so strong, it doesn’t need to be policed. It just is.”
Mia’s brow furrowed. “But what happens when it’s not just kisses and cuddles? What if Sarah has a bad day and needs him more, but you’re hurting too? What if one of you wants more and the other’s too tired to give it?”
Sarah looked at her with quiet empathy. “Then we talk. And sometimes we fight. But it’s never a competition. He listens. He adjusts. We all do.”
Marisol nodded. “It’s happened. More than once. We’ve had days when I felt overwhelmed and Sarah needed him too. Or when I wanted something more physical and she just needed to be held. It’s not always perfect.”
Sarah added gently, “But Bharath ... he sees it. All of it. He notices when one of us starts to shrink into the background. And he pulls us back in. Every time.”
Marisol smiled faintly, remembering. “He never lets anyone feel invisible. Even when he’s exhausted, even when we’re a mess. He’ll take the time to sit with us separately, or hold us both. Sometimes we cry it out together. Sometimes we switch places without a word, like passing each other the baton.”
Mia’s gaze flicked between them.
Sarah continued, voice soft but certain. “And somewhere along the way, Mari and I started to lean on each other too. Not romantically. But emotionally. We talk now. Really talk. We’ve learned each other’s rhythms. Her silences don’t scare me anymore. And I know when she needs space versus when she needs a blanket and a sarcastic joke.”
Marisol grinned. “And I’ve learned that Sarah over-explains when she’s anxious. So I listen. I don’t roll my eyes anymore.”
They both laughed, the ease between them palpable.
“But that’s the thing,” Marisol said, her tone gentler now. “We love him. And because we love him, we love each other enough to protect this. To not hurt each other. To not let silence become distance.”
Sarah nodded. “That’s why we talk. Even when it’s awkward. Even when it’s hard. Especially then.”
Mia’s brow furrowed. “Okay ... but what happens when you fight? Like really fight. Does one of you ever feel left out? Or worse - ganged up on?”
Sarah answered first, her voice measured. “That happened once. Early on. I shut down, and Marisol got defensive. Bharath tried to mediate, but it only worked because we all circled back later. With honesty. And a lot of humility.”
“He was so sad that day,” Marisol added, smirking. “That part broke us more than the fight.”
Bharath flushed. “I just didn’t want to hurt either of you. I still don’t. Every time we have a hard moment, I feel like I’m failing both.”
That stunned Mia. His eyes really meant it. The guilt wasn’t performative. It was bone-deep.
And somehow ... it made him even more impossible to hate.
“What if one day he ... stops loving one of you?” Mia asked.
Marisol and Sarah looked at each other - and started laughing.
“Sorry,” Sarah said, wiping a tear. “It’s not that the question’s dumb. It’s that we’ve both asked it. A million times.”
“Every week in the beginning,” Marisol said, nodding. “I once cried in the shower because he looked at Sarah longer than me during dinner.”
Bharath turned red. “I didn’t even know that.”
“Exactly,” Sarah said. “That’s the thing. We all panic sometimes. But then he kisses us like he’s starving. And we remember - it’s not about how long he looks. It’s how deeply.”
Mia stayed quiet, but her heart fluttered.
It didn’t sound fake. It sounded lived in.
“And so far,” Marisol added, her voice quiet but firm, “it’s worked. Because we choose it. Every day. Because we love each other too much to let anything fester.”
Mia didn’t speak right away. Her expression was thoughtful, her fingers curling slightly against the edge of the blanket on her lap.
Marisol reached forward, her voice steady but soft. “It’s not a fantasy, Mia. We have real moments. Real pain. But we’ve built something with room for all of us to breathe. And Bharath ... he’s the glue. Not because he demands it, but because he holds us when we bend. And we hold him too.”
Sarah nodded. “It only works because we’re all holding it together. With love. With honesty. And with more communication than most people think is possible.”
Mia nodded slowly, visibly filing the answer away. It wasn’t a fairy tale. But maybe that made it more real. She sank back into the couch slowly, eyes wide and overwhelmed. “This is wild.”
Marisol chuckled. “It is. But it’s also ... peaceful. Which is even wilder.”
Mia closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. “So let me get this straight. You love him. He loves you. You’re his. But Sarah is also his. And you love her ... but only because she’s part of this?”
Marisol nodded. “That’s a fair way to put it.”
“And you two...” Mia glanced at Sarah, then back to Marisol. “You do stuff. Together. For him.”
“When we feel like it,” Marisol said with a wink. “Not for points. Not on demand. But sometimes ... it’s fun.”
“And you’re okay doing that?”
Marisol’s eyes twinkled. “If you saw his face when we did, you’d be okay too.”
Mia felt her cheeks burn.
“And you’re not worried you’ll lose yourself in this?” she asked, voice quieter again. “Like ... forget who you are?”
Marisol reached over and touched her cheek gently. “I’ve never felt more myself than when I’m with him. He sees me. All of me. And so does she. There’s no pretending here.”
Mia tilted her head, searching her sister’s face like it was a puzzle she hadn’t solved yet.
“Okay ... but that’s what’s tripping me out. A few months ago, you were colder than Antarctica. You used to mock girls who cried over boys. You once told me-and I quote-’romance is a performance for dumbasses with hormones.’”
Marisol winced. “Oof. That does sound like me.”
“So how the hell does that girl,” Mia gestured pointedly, “end up in this? Naked cuddling with two people every night? Sharing your man with someone who could be on the cover of Maxim?”
Marisol didn’t flinch. “Because love didn’t make me smaller. It made me bigger. Bharath didn’t just melt the ice. He made me feel ... safe enough to bloom.”
“Even if you have to share him?”
“Especially because I do,” she said softly. “He’s not mine to cage. He’s mine to witness.”
“But how do you know it’ll last?” Mia asked. “College relationships fall apart all the time. What makes this different?”
Bharath finally spoke - not defensive, but calm. “I don’t know that it will last. But I know I want it to. Enough to work for it every single day.”
Sarah took his hand. “We didn’t fall into this. We built it. Slowly. Painfully. And we’re still building.”
Marisol nodded. “And when something breaks? We don’t throw it out. We fix it.”
“Together,” Bharath said quietly. He squeezed the girls hands as they both kissed him reverentially.
“Para siempre, mi amor,” said Marisol with tears in her eyes.
And for the first time in Mia’s life ... she didn’t have a comeback.
Because her sister didn’t just sound okay.
She sounded whole.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.