Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
28: The Mia Conspiracy
Coming of Age Sex Story: 28: The Mia Conspiracy - 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 door clicked shut behind Bharath, the thud of his footsteps fading down the porch steps as he headed to Papa John’s. It was only a ten-minute walk, but Marisol waited until she could no longer hear even the distant scuff of his sneakers before she turned to Mia with a sly, dangerous smile.
Sarah was already watching her - head tilted, legs curled beneath her on the carpet, her chin propped in her palm like a cat preparing to pounce.
Mia looked between them, blinking, suddenly aware of how silent the room had grown.
“What?” she asked, her voice pitched higher than usual. “Why are you both looking at me like that?”
Marisol leaned forward on the couch, her elbows on her knees. “Because, chiquita ... you’re not just curious anymore.”
Sarah’s smile deepened. “You’re interested in him.”
Mia’s mouth opened to protest, but no words came. Her cheeks flushed - and then, slowly, defiantly, she closed her lips and nodded.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I think I am.”
She’d always been the one who made boys sweat. The one who said how far and how fast. But now? She was the one squirming. The one begging. And God help her, she loved it.
The way Marisol and Sarah spoke--like they belonged to him, like surrender was sacred--it made something tighten in Mia’s chest. This wasn’t the kind of power she was used to. This wasn’t about control. It was about devotion. And for the first time, she wanted that more than anything.
Marisol gave a quiet, approving hum and leaned back, legs crossing slowly. “Then let’s not pretend. No more awkward glances or nervous questions. You can ask anything, say anything.”
Sarah’s voice was gentle, but unmistakably sure. “This space? Right now? It’s just us girls. No judgment. That’s why we sent him out.”
Mia inhaled slowly, as if testing the air for permission. Her thighs pressed together. She didn’t even realize her fingers had wandered to her lap until Marisol’s eyes dropped - not disapproving, but observant.
“What is he like?” Mia whispered, her voice hoarse. “I mean ... really. Sexually. Is he ... aggressive? How does he keep two women who look like you satisfied?”
“Satisfied? More like we have to beg him to spare us sometimes,” opined Sarah remembering that morning. “He’s learned us so well that I don’t think we alone can take him on one on one anymore. He just unravels us. When he growls taking Marisol or I, we just turn into puddles.”
Mia’s breath hitched. “He doesn’t seem to be the type to be so aggressive!”
Marisol laughed - low and musical. “Not aggressive. Dominant. There’s a difference.”
Sarah picked it up like a practiced duet. “He doesn’t take. He claims.”
Mia let out a small sound, almost a whimper.
Marisol leaned in again, her eyes now gleaming with conspiratorial heat. “He didn’t ask me if I wanted to submit. He earned it. Every second. Every inch of my surrender, he took with reverence. Worshipped me like a temple before taking me like a man.”
Sarah giggled softly, her face flushed. “And when he finally touched me ... God. He didn’t even have to say anything. Just looked at me like I belonged to him. And I did. I do.”
Mia’s breath hitched. Her legs shifted, hips unconsciously pressing into the couch.
Marisol grinned. “Always in the nude. That’s the rule. We sleep together every night, skin to skin, his arms around both of us. Often in us.”
Sarah added, “And when we make love - it’s always the three of us. Always. We take care of each other. Kiss, taste, tease - but only when he’s there. Only when he wants it.”
Mia blinked, wide-eyed. “So ... you’re not in love with each other?”
The girls shook their heads in tandem.
“We are but not in the way you think. We are more like sister-wives,” said Marisol. “I love Sarah as a best-friend and can’t imagine life without her, but not in a romantic way. I only love Bharath that way.”
“It’s about him,” Sarah said. “We love him. The rest is ... bonus. Sometimes we kiss and more to make him moan. Sometimes we tease each other because it gets him hard. Or sometimes he just orders us to and we do it because we can’t help ourselves when he is like that.”
“He’s the center,” Marisol murmured. “He’s the sun. We orbit around him, and it feels right. He didn’t ask us to. We chose to.”
Mia’s fingers had now fully slipped beneath the waistband of her pajamas. She didn’t even try to hide it.
Marisol and Sarah noticed. They didn’t stop her.
Instead, Marisol said, softly, “You want to know our traditions?”
Mia nodded rapidly, cheeks flushed with raw need.
“We wake him with our mouths like today morning,” Sarah whispered. “Every morning. We call it the titjob alarm clock - one of us sits on his chest, the other between his legs. He wakes up already in heaven. Then he ravages us. Today we went for almost two hours until we almost passed out from pleasure.”
Mia whimpered as she rubbed herself visualizing Bharath ravaging them.
“Sacred Tuesdays,” Marisol added, voice low and warm, “are our special days. We fuck all day from early morning. We skip lunch and have nooners instead. The rule is: no clothes after class until dinner. He makes love to both of us. That’s what he loves to do. But we beg him to slam into us sometimes. Spank us. Tame us. We don’t eat food. We feast on him.”
Sarah smiled, remembering. “He never bathes alone either. Not anymore. If he tries, we drag him in. It’s a rule now - we worship him in the shower. With mouths, our tits, with hands. All of us slippery and soaked, pressed against him. You haven’t lived until you get a special bath from him either. Both Marisol and I are like puppets in his hands when he worships us instead.”
Mia’s mouth had fallen open slightly. Her fingers moved faster, breath coming in little gasps. She looked dazed. Wild.
Marisol kept going, her voice now nothing but velvet. “I have given him every part of me to him, you know. Every part. My mouth. My body. My heart. One by one. And he didn’t even realize he was doing it. He just ... looked at me like I was worth claiming. On his birthday he gets the last part of us he hasn’t taken yet. Our asses. After that we will be his three hole sluts whenever he wants. Wherever he wants.”
Mia moaned.
Sarah shifted closer, voice now nearly at Mia’s ear. “You want him to take you too, don’t you? You want to belong to him like us.”
Mia nodded, biting her lip.
“You want him to bend you over the kitchen table like he did to me last week. To tie your wrists to the headboard like he did with Marisol and made me eat her pussy while he slammed into me.”
“I want all of it,” Mia whispered. “Everything.”
Marisol exhaled slowly. “We’ve talked about this, you know. About you.”
Mia blinked. “Me?”
Sarah’s smile was gentle. “Ever since you started looking at him differently. Marisol noticed and we discussed it. Of course Bharath doesn’t know.”
Marisol nodded. “And we couldn’t stop imagining it. What it would be like ... watching him take you.”
Mia’s breath hitched.
“Your gorgeous tits,” Sarah murmured, gaze flicking down. “Him looking at you lovely breasts jiggling with wonder while he fucks you slowly.”
Marisol’s voice dropped, husky. “Or fast. Bent over the table. Us watching. Helping. Maybe I’m behind you, whispering in your ear while he’s inside. Maybe Sarah’s holding your wrists down while he slams into you.”
Mia whimpered.
The room was hot now. Charged. Mia had slipped her pajamas down almost entirely only left in her thong which was sodden now. She wasn’t even pretending anymore.
Marisol leaned down until her lips were just a breath from Mia’s ear. “If you want to join us then you have to show us how serious you are.”
Mia froze. Her pupils dilated. Her hand paused just enough for the moment to thrum with tension.
“How?” she whispered.
Sarah sat back, legs spreading just enough to send a silent message. Her top clung to her breasts, nipples pressing against the fabric obscenely. “Don’t stop. We want to see.”
Mia let out a soft, broken gasp.
“Look at her,” Marisol said to Sarah, almost like a performance review. “She’s dripping. I bet she’s been thinking about this for weeks. Imagining herself in our place. Wondering what it would feel like to have his hands on her.”
Mia’s hips lifted slightly off the couch.
“We can tell he turns you on,” Sarah said softly. “But it’s not just lust, is it? You want to belong to him. Do you want to be his slut as well like us? Only his from now. No other man. Forever.”
“I do,” Mia breathed. “I really do. I want to only be his. No one else comes close.”
Mia hesitated, trembling. “But ... aren’t you supposed to hate the idea of him with someone else?”
Marisol’s voice was calm, but her eyes burned. “That’s what I used to think. Before I saw him with Sarah.”
Sarah smiled, soft and knowing. “Before I saw him with Marisol.”
Marisol continued, “Watching him ... use another woman with so much care, so much power-hearing her scream and knowing I was part of that? It didn’t feel like losing him. It felt like worship.”
“We’re not jealous,” Sarah said. “We’re addicts. Addicted to watching him give. To hearing someone else moan his name as he claims her over and over.”
Marisol looked at Mia, almost hesitant. “I know it might sound weird. Especially since you’re my sister. But the thought of him taking you while we help you get there ... it makes me shake with desire. Sarah and I have discussed this many times since I saw how interested you were in him. We both knew that it was not just a simple crush. We are having this discussion with you only after we talked through this thoroughly.”
“And not just him,” Marisol added. “You want to belong to us too. To be part of this.”
Mia hesitated-just a flicker-but it didn’t go unnoticed. Marisol and Sarah exchanged a glance.
Sarah’s voice softened, sincere. “We don’t touch each other when he’s not here. That’s something we decided early on-not because we don’t enjoy it, but because without him, it doesn’t feel the same. It’s not ... us.”
Marisol nodded, her expression gentle. “He’s our anchor. Our reason. When we kiss or more in front of him, it’s for his joy. For his eyes. Not for each other.”
Mia’s brows pinched slightly, conflicted. “So why now?”
Sarah stepped closer, her gaze steady. “Because this isn’t about us. It’s about you.”
Marisol’s voice was low. “This moment isn’t for pleasure. It’s to show you what devotion looks like. What it means to share. What surrender can feel like-when it’s sacred.”
Sarah took Mia’s hand. “And to see how you react. Not just because we want to know if you’re ready ... but because we need to know he’s safe with you. That you won’t flinch at this life. That this kind of love doesn’t scare you.”
Marisol leaned in. “If it does? That’s okay. But if it doesn’t...”
She trailed off. Her eyes locked with Sarah’s.
Mia nodded, slow, trembling. “Do it.”
Marisol and Sarah turned to each other and kissed-slow at first, then with heat. It was passionate, yes, but not wanton. It was reverent. A performance, a vow. A glimpse into a world Mia had never imagined wanting-until now.
Mia didn’t flinch.
If anything, her pupils dilated. Her breath caught.
The idea of watching-not just Bharath-but them, touching, surrendering, kissing ... it didn’t repel her.
It ignited something. Something dark. Something wet.
Even the idea of being in that kiss-of touching her sister, if he asked her to-didn’t make her recoil.
It made her ache.
She squealed - then climaxed with a sharp cry, thighs shaking. Her hand trembled as it stilled between her legs. She curled forward, hair falling into her face, panting, breasts heaving.
Mia’s orgasm came not just from her fingers, not just from the stories-but from the image now blazing behind her eyelids:
Bharath’s hands on her hips. Marisol whispering filth in her ear. Sarah sucking her breasts while he rutted into her like she was already his. The idea that they wanted to see it. That they wanted to make it happen.
She wasn’t just accepted.
She was craved.
Silence followed for a beat - a golden, sacred kind of silence.
When she looked up, both girls were smiling.
The glow of post-confession silence lingered in the living room, thick and golden like honey in sunlight. Mia was curled against the couch cushion, hair tousled, chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. She looked almost dreamy - blissed out, dazed, and glowing from the inside.
Sarah passed her a bottle of water and a gentle smile. “You okay, honey?”
Mia nodded slowly. “Better than okay.”
Marisol knelt by the edge of the couch, one hand resting lightly on Mia’s ankle. Her expression had softened, but there was a new weight behind her eyes now. Less teasing. More real.
“Then it’s time we stop playing.”
Mia blinked, her expression shifting.
Sarah echoed Marisol’s gravity with a slow exhale. “We believe you, Mia. We believe you want this. But wanting isn’t enough.”
Mia pushed herself upright, wiping her palms on her thighs. “What do you mean?”
Marisol tilted her head, voice low but firm. “This... “ she gestured around them, toward the unseen figure of Bharath somewhere between the street and the pizza place “isn’t some college fling or late-night fantasy. We’re not playing house. We’re building a life around him. Every choice we make, every kiss, every fight, every orgasm - it matters. If you want to be part of this ... you have to be ready.”
“I am ready,” Mia said quickly, almost defensively. “I’ve never felt anything this real. I don’t care how crazy it sounds.”
“But that’s not what we’re asking,” Sarah said gently. “You’re not even eighteen yet.”
“I will be in a couple of weeks.”
“And you’re still in high school,” Marisol added. “If you want to be with us, live with us, love him the way we do - you need to be here. At Tech or Georgia State. Close enough that we wake up together. That he can take care of all of us. That we can take care of you.”
Mia swallowed. “I’ve been working on it. My grades are strong. I’m taking the SATs again next month. Bharath said he’d tutor me...”
Marisol’s eyes softened, but her voice remained grounded. “Then we’ll help you. Anything you need - letters, study plans, application coaching. We’ll make sure you get in.”
Mia’s lips parted in surprise. “You’d really ... help me like that?”
Sarah nodded, eyes gleaming with sisterly warmth. “Of course we would. But only if you’re serious. Because this isn’t just about getting what you want in bed. It’s about building something forever. That’s what this is for us.”
Marisol reached out and took Mia’s hand. “And Mia ... you’re gorgeous. You could walk into any college, any club, any party and have men falling at your feet. Are you really saying you want this life? To be part of something that’s all about one man? Why Bharath?”
Mia opened her mouth ... then closed it. Her eyes flicked down. Thoughtful. Honest.
“Because,” she said at last, “he sees me. Not just my face. Not just my body. He saw me - the first time we met - and made me want to be better. I’m used to boys who want me for the way I look in a skirt or out of it. But Bharath ... he got excited when I talked about Georgia Tech. He asked me about my goals like they were his goals. He looked at me like I was smart, and it made me want to be.”
The girls were quiet.
Then Mia added, voice quieter, “And I know he wants me too. I’ve seen the way he looks when he thinks no one’s watching.”
Sarah smiled slowly. “Oh, honey. I bet he does.”
Marisol laughed, a little wickedly. “Honestly? I don’t blame him. Your boobs are amazing. They’re better than mine and Sarah’s put together - and we happen to think ours are pretty damn spectacular.”
Mia blushed but beamed.
Marisol shook her head fondly. “Still. This isn’t just about attraction. You need to be sure.”
“I am,” Mia said.
“Good,” Sarah said. “Because there’s one more thing.”
The tone shifted again.
Sarah reached over and gently brushed a strand of hair from Mia’s cheek. “Bharath has a good heart. A complicated heart. He didn’t ask for any of this. He didn’t expect Marisol, let alone me. And now he’s deep in love with us. For real. Two women who love him completely. It still overwhelms him.”
“And then,” Marisol added, “there’s mom.”
Mia grimaced. “Mamá...”
“He hasn’t even begun to figure out how to explain Sarah to her,” Marisol continued. “She likes him, yes. She respects him. But this? A throuple? That’s going to take time. He wants to make sure she understands before anything else.”
“And before you,” Sarah said gently. “That’s going to be hard.”
Mia nodded slowly. “I get it. I really do.”
Marisol tilted her head. “Do you? Because this means waiting. Watching him love us. Sleep with us. Cuddle us. While you stay just ... close. Not inside.”
Mia didn’t flinch.
“I’ll wait,” she said. “As long as it takes.”
Sarah smiled - proud now. “Then say it. Say what you want.”
Marisol looked at Sarah proudly and gave her a kiss. Sarah had healed from the fragile girl she was when she joined the throuple. She had asked Mia what Marisol had asked her when Sarah was about to join Bharath and her with conviction knowing that she belonged.
Mia looked between them. Her lips trembled just slightly.
“I want to be his,” she whispered. “Not just his crush or his girlfriend’s sister or his fan. I want him to take me, like he took you. Make me part of this. All the way.”
Marisol exhaled slowly. Then she reached for Sarah’s hand - and with her other hand, she took Mia’s.
“We believe you,” she said. “But we have to be careful. Especially because you’re my sister. He won’t let himself think of you that way unless we drag him to that door and open it.”
“And even then,” Sarah added, “he might still resist. His honor will scream at him to walk away.”
“He doesn’t stand a chance,” Mia whispered, a smile breaking through. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Marisol burst into laughter, delighted and shocked. “Oh my God. You are one of us.”
Sarah leaned forward, voice low and playful. “But are you ready to plan it out? To do it right?”
Mia nodded eagerly. “Tell me everything.”
Marisol stood up and walked to the closet. “If you want to seduce him, you should wear something he already loves on us.” She pulled out one of Bharath’s oversized gym shirts--so thin with use and age it was nearly translucent. “No bra. No panties. Just this. And those tiny shorts. Make sure it’s falling off you. He will love your boobs and your pert ass. We are usually dressed in this - maybe in a thong rather than shorts - but we didn’t tonight because of you.”
Mia took it with a dry mouth.
Sarah leaned in, eyes sparkling. “When you sit on him later, he’ll try to pull away. He’ll panic. But we’ll be there. We’ll make it feel normal. Make it feel ... inevitable.”
Marisol’s voice turned sly. “You’ll be soft. Warm. Too close to ignore. And he’ll have nowhere to run.”
Mia stared at the shirt. “What if he ... pushes me off?”
“We won’t let him,” Sarah whispered. “He needs you. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
“He’ll panic,” Marisol said. “Out of guilt. Out of fear that he’s betraying me and Sarah. But you’ll be sitting there like a dream. Soft. Close. Untouchable. And he won’t be able to move.”
“But what if...” Mia’s voice cracked just a little. “What if he only wants me because I’m hot? Because I’m your sister? Because of my...” She paused, her eyes flicking down to her chest, cheeks flushed.
“Because of your perfect tits? God. How are they so big and still so firm?” Sarah mentioned huffily.
“Yeah - like you really have something to complain about slut. Have you seen the way Bharath worships yours?” retorted Marisol.
Mia nodded. “Guys always look. Always want. But it’s never ... real.”
Marisol touched her hand. “He’ll see you. Really see you. Like he saw Sarah. Like he saw me. You think we weren’t scared too? I was terrified. But Bharath ... he doesn’t just fall for bodies. He falls for hearts.”
Sarah added, “And he’s already halfway there with you. You should see how often he looks when he thinks we’re not watching.”
Marisol leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “By the way when you sit on him and grind him, you’re going to need to be ready for him, you know. He’s thick. Thick enough that your body might need time. I was drooling for the first time I saw him. Sarah was in heaven the first time he entered her. She loves his dick so much she tries to cram it into her mouth every chance she gets. I don’t know how she manages to fit almost all of him in. So you will definitely feel something when you are on him. Don’t get lost in dreaming about what it will feel like inside you. I did the first time I touched him. Luckily he was still a virgin then and not the sex god he is now.”
Sarah added with a breathless smile, “It’ll stretch you. Make you ache. But you’ll love it. The way we do. Every single inch.”
Mia let out a soft moan, her thighs twitching. “I want that. I want all of it.”
Sarah leaned forward, her voice low but unwavering. “It doesn’t make us jealous, Mia. It makes us wet. Because it’s him. Because it’s you.”
Mia hesitated-just a flicker of tension tightening her jaw. “But just so we’re clear ... this isn’t some open thing, right? I’m not signing up to watch random girls throw themselves at him. I’ve seen how people look at Bharath now. He’s popular. Gorgeous. Kind. They’re going to come after him.”
Marisol’s eyes narrowed, but not at Mia-at the thought. “Let them try,” she said coolly.
Sarah gave a sharp, knowing smile. “We’re not open. Not to flings. Not to attention. Not to ‘fun.’ This isn’t a dorm sex club. It’s a soul-bond. A family. We chose this. He chose us. No one touches our man unless they’re part of this heart-deep. Not even for a second.”
Mia blinked. “So even if some other girl tries-”
“Oh, honey,” Marisol said, voice edged with steel, “there was someone. Melina. Total knockout. Tried to flirt with Bharath right in front of us at that Bachelorette game night. Tossed her hair, licked her lips, leaned all the way into his space.”
Sarah snorted. “He barely noticed. Offered her the last slice of pizza like he would a cousin. And we-” her smile turned dangerous “-made sure she understood. She’s lucky we liked her enough to send her toward Ravi and Tyrel. If she’d tried harder? We’d have shut her down harder.”
Marisol’s voice dropped, deadly calm. “Bharath doesn’t even look unless he feels something. And if you think he’s possessive of us?” Her smile sharpened. “We’d break bones before we let anyone else get close.”
Mia’s shoulders relaxed a little, but her voice was still cautious. “So ... it’s just the three of you? Forever?”
Marisol’s eyes didn’t waver. “Yes. This isn’t some experiment. We’re not poly in the way magazines describe. It’s not about numbers or novelty. It’s about him. About us. He’s ours. We’re his. That’s the end of it.”
Sarah added, “We might get off on watching him with someone we love. That’s what happened when I joined. It made us closer. Made us stronger. But if we don’t trust her, if she’s not part of this heart and soul? Then no. Absolutely not.”
Marisol leaned in, voice velvet and steel. “And Bharath? You heard him when he said he couldn’t even imagine us with another man. We feel the same. He’s not just our boyfriend. He’s our sun. Our center. He belongs to us.”
Sarah nodded. “And if you’re worried about us handing him over to just anyone?” She reached forward and squeezed Mia’s hand. “We won’t. Not even for you.”
Mia’s eyes widened. “Wait ... what?”
Marisol met her gaze evenly. “We want this, Mia. We really do. We see the way he looks at you. We know there’s something there. But it has to be real. Mutual. Earned. If he doesn’t choose you back-if he says no-we won’t push it. Not even for my sister.”
Sarah’s tone was warm but firm. “This is sacred, Mia. We won’t cheapen it just because it’s convenient. Or hot. Or tempting.”
There was a pause-thick and warm, but unflinching.
And then Mia smiled. Slow. Possessive.
“Good,” she said. “Because no one’s touching my man either.”
The three of them huddled close now, heads together, voices hushed and plotting.
Sarah concluded. “So when we start the movie, we will pin him down. The you sit on him and make sure you are pretty much topless. Then you tease. Soft. Subtle. Let him ache.”
“And we’ll nudge him,” Marisol said. “Little things. Shared memories. Hints. Glances.”
They all giggled now, the heaviness lifting slightly, replaced with feminine glee.
But as the laughter faded, Mia’s expression turned more thoughtful. She looked at her sister, then at Sarah.
“Can I ask something?” she said quietly.
“Of course,” Marisol said.
“Why are you okay ... sharing him with me? With anyone? I mean - you love him. And you already have him. Why would you want to split that? I know I’ve asked this before and you both answered - but I still need to know.”
The question landed like a quiet wind. Not sharp. Just real.
Marisol sat back slightly, her smile turning gentle. “Because loving him ... doesn’t feel like something I want to keep. It feels like something I want to share. Not because I need to - but because it grows when I do.”
She touched Mia’s knee. “And I know your heart. I see how you look at him. And I would rather walk through life with you as my sister and sister-wife - than ever be afraid of losing him to you in silence.”
Mia’s eyes welled up.
Sarah added softly, “And as for me? I’m not losing anything. I’m gaining you. And Bharath gets even more love, more joy, more fire. Why would I be jealous of that?”
Mia wiped her eyes, overwhelmed.
Then she whispered, “Would you ... be okay doing those things with me, too? I mean ... like you do with each other. For him?”
Marisol looked at Sarah, then smiled - a slow, wicked smile that was somehow also tender.
“For him?” she said. “Absolutely.”
Sarah smiled faintly, her voice low and sure. “If he asked us to. If he was watching. If he wanted to see you blush while our lips touched ... we’d do it so slowly, you’d feel it in your spine.”
Marisol’s fingers brushed along Mia’s jaw, featherlight. Her gaze burned-not with lust, but with something far deeper. “But never for us. Always for him. Because we’re his. Completely. Unquestionably.”
She leaned in, lips just a breath from Mia’s ear.
“If he told me to spread your legs and pleasure you while he watched, I’d do it with gratitude in my throat.”
Sarah’s breath hitched, but she nodded, her voice breathy. “If he asked me to do anything with you and your sister ... I’d do it without question. Because he owns me. Every inch. Every choice. Just like he belongs to Marisol and I.”
Mia’s eyes widened-shocked, aroused, overwhelmed.
Sarah reached out and cupped her cheek gently, reverently. “We’re not just lovers. We’re soulmates. And if he asked us to worship you, Mia ... we’d do it because to serve him is to serve whatever he loves.”
Marisol added, voice molten and final, “And if that’s you ... then we’ll worship you too.”
Sarah grinned. “We’d love to perform for him. Tease him. Worship him. With you by our side? Even more fun.”
Mia flushed deep crimson. “I want that. So badly.”
Marisol leaned in, voice low. “Then earn it. Day by day. He won’t ask for it. He may not even let himself want it. But we’ll guide him. And when he’s ready ... you’ll be his.”
Marisol sat back, drawing in a long breath like she needed a second to absorb everything too. Her fingers brushed through Mia’s hair the way she always had when they were younger - comforting, maternal even. Except now it felt different. More sacred. Like a torch being passed between priestesses.
“It’s funny,” Marisol murmured. “I used to think I’d be the jealous one. That I wouldn’t be able to handle another woman in his arms. But then I saw the way Sarah loved him - and how he loved her - and I realized something.”
She glanced at Sarah. Their eyes met. It was soft. Fierce.