Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
52: November Logistics
Coming of Age Sex Story: 52: November Logistics - 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 couch was still warm under his cheek when Bharath blinked awake. For a few seconds, he wasn’t sure if it was morning or night. His body still felt wrung out, like every nerve had been pulled through a mangle and then dumped back into him. His throat was raw, his chest heavy.
And then he heard voices - the jangle of keys, the rush of cool air from the door, and the unmistakable sound of Marisol and Sarah arguing mid-giggle.
“- I’m telling you, Professor Heller looked like she wanted to strangle Ravi when he kept bugging her for one more point on his test,” Sarah was saying. “She told him he already had an A and that he should be happy with it. If it wasn’t for the class, I think she might’ve smacked him on the head.”
Marisol snorted. “Please. That boy survives only because God protects fools and engineers.”
The door banged shut, and the house filled instantly with their noise, their perfume, their energy. Bharath instantly felt lifted in their presence. He sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes.
“Oh wow. What time is it? I feel like Rip Van Winkle waking up after a hundred years.”
Two adoring sets of eyes landed on him. Sarah stopped in her tracks, grinning like a wolf. “Our Sleeping Beauty rises. Did you just wake up?”
Marisol squealed and darted across the room, shedding her jacket. “Mi amor, finally! We thought you’d gone into a coma.”
Before he could reply, both of them were on him - Sarah climbing onto the couch under his right arm while Marisol launched herself straight into his lap. He grunted as her weight hit his chest, but then her arms wound around his neck and her lips found his jaw.
“You missed all of Friday,” Sarah scolded, peppering his temple with kisses. “Classes, assignments, the works. Just snoozing here like a grandpa.”
“A cute grandpa,” Marisol corrected, competing with Sarah as she pushed her icy hands under his T-shirt.
Bharath yelped, jerking. “Aiyo, that’s cold!”
Marisol laughed wickedly. “Oooh, Sarah ... get your hands in here. He’s so nice and warm!”
“Our very own space heater,” Sarah cooed as she joined Marisol, slipping her cold fingers against his stomach. Bharath writhed under their assault, groaning helplessly as the girls giggled like schoolkids pulling a prank.
“I ... gosh ... you girls ... that’s cold!” He complained, trying to defend himself. “Yeah ... I was so sleepy after not sleeping last night. I was tired. Emotionally drained. Anyways, it’s ... like ... pre-Thanksgiving. Professors don’t do anything important this week. That’s what you told me, right, Sarah?”
Sarah smirked. “Tell that to my chem prof. But you lucked out. Nothing catastrophic happened.”
Marisol kissed his throat. “Except for you missing me, cariño. That’s catastrophic. Oh - and the profs handed back all our assignments and tests.”
Bharath’s brows shot up. “So how did we do?” he asked nervously.
Sarah giggled. “You? As usual? Aced both. Calculus and OOP. Even that insane question in Calculus no one understood? The one Jorge tried to peek off your sheet? Yeah, the professor used your answer to prove it was solvable. Half the class cursed your name.”
“Great. I’m popular,” he muttered.
Marisol smirked. “Don’t worry. You’re still our nerdy superstar.” She kissed his cheek.
Bharath hesitated, then asked, “How did Zara and Ayesha do?”
Marisol shrugged. “They’re scraping by with Bs. They’d do better if they studied. Ayesha said GPAs were a social construct anyway, and that getting you to accept them mattered more.”
Bharath tried to rise, but both girls tugged him back into the couch. “Girls, I need to get up! I need to talk to Ayesha and Zara about their grades -”
Sarah burst out laughing. “We don’t like Responsible Papi. We like Dom Papi.” She wriggled closer. “Don’t worry about their grades yet. They’ll figure it out.”
He sighed, holding both of them close. “So what else did I miss? Other than my two girlfriends turning into bullies.”
Sarah leaned in, whispering with mock seriousness. “Your Haiku Guy was devastated. He didn’t see you with us, so we told him you were just sleeping because you weren’t feeling well. He said he’d write you a get-well-soon haiku. Then he gave a little speech in class about you being the soul of Calculus.”
Bharath groaned. “Oh god. I hope he doesn’t go overboard.”
Marisol nodded dramatically. “Sí. They whispered, they gasped. And in Calculus - oh, mi amor, you should’ve seen it. Ayesha and Zara sat with me. Right next to me. Ravi nearly swallowed his pencil, and Jorge looked like he’d seen a ghost.”
Bharath blinked. “Wait. They sat with you? Did you tell Ravi and Jorge about us?”
Marisol giggled harder. “No, of course not. But the second Ayesha and Zara were friendly with me - and Ravi and Jorge - the whole class just about fainted. Even Professor Heller did a double take.”
Sarah added dryly, “Considering they spent months ignoring us, yeah. Half the room was staring holes through them. They even walked out with me and didn’t leave my side. The whole floor buzzed after class. They won’t be joining our study group tonight - I thought we should prep the gang before springing them. They went back to their dorm to get ready for your date tonight. I haven’t seen two girls more excited about anything in my life.”
Bharath groaned, scrubbing his face. “Of course. The one day I disappear, the universe decides to shuffle seating charts like a Bollywood melodrama.”
Sarah smirked. “At least Ravi and Jorge got front-row tickets. You should’ve seen their faces. I bet the whole dorm’s still gossiping.”
Marisol kissed his cheek noisily. “And the best part? Zara actually asked me for help with the notes. Ravi’s jaw stayed on the floor until the bell rang.”
They collapsed into giggles again, clinging to him, and for a moment it was just warmth. His arms were full. His body soaked up the perfume, the silk, the shampoo of the women who had broken him last night and were now rebuilding him with every laugh.
Still, his chest twinged.
When the giggles finally ebbed, Marisol grew serious. She curled in his lap, fingers sneaking under his shirt. “Mi amor, we’re sorry again. About last night. About taking away your choice.”
Sarah nodded, pressing her forehead to his. Her hands tugged at his hem too, but her voice was soft. “We thought we were being clever. We thought we were proving a point. Instead, we hurt you.”
He held them tighter, his breath shaky. “Yeah. You did.”
The silence stretched.
Marisol’s lip trembled, but she pushed through. “We want you to know ... Ayesha and Zara told us everything. They’re done with the ‘It’ crowd. Leah, Ryan, all of them - they can rot. Yesterday, after tailgating, we ran into them when we were leading Ayesha and Zara away. They broke down, Bharath. And Leah and Ryan were vicious. They slut-shamed them right there in public.”
Sarah’s jaw tightened. “It was ugly. The second those girls weren’t part of the clique, Leah and Ryan ripped them apart. Called them desperate. Said they were throwing themselves at you for clout. It was cruel.”
Marisol’s nails dug into his shirt. “It made me sick. Si, they’ve been cruel to us before. But no one deserves that. They’ve got a bad reputation now, and people are just ... mean. Yes, they were bad. But they don’t deserve this.”
Bharath’s stomach twisted. He pictured Ayesha’s proud chin trembling, Zara’s sharp tongue dulled by shame. He exhaled slowly. “Damn it. They don’t.”
Sarah squeezed his hand. “I’m not saying forgive them instantly. Just ... see them as they are now. Not as the girls from the dining hall.”
He nodded slowly. “I’ll give them a fair chance.”
Marisol’s smile bloomed like dawn. “Gracias, mi amor. That’s all we wanted.”
Sarah kissed his lips, soft and lingering. “And tonight? After study group? It’s your date. You’ll see how much they’ve changed.”
He groaned. “Finals coming up, and you’re throwing me into a date gauntlet.”
Sarah smirked. “You’ll survive. You always do.”
Marisol’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she and Sarah exchanged a glance - because while he had been lost in his own thoughts, they had already slipped his shirt off.
“Speaking of survival...” Marisol teased, pressing her bare palm to his chest. “We haven’t had sex in almost a whole day. And...” She leaned in to whisper hotly, “It’s time you learned about make-up sex, cariño.”
Bharath jolted. “Excuse me? What? Why am I half-naked?”
Sarah grinned wickedly, biting his lip. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve never heard of make-up sex? We’ve been so patient - while you’ve been brooding, sleeping, storming off porches. And we’ve been...” She guided his hand between her thighs. “ ... aching.”
His pulse spiked. “Oh god.”
Sarah whispered against his mouth. “Not god. Us.”
The November air nipped at their still-damp hair as the three of them slipped down the brick path toward the library. A few fallen oak leaves skittered along the concrete like they were chasing the three shadows stitched together at the shoulders. Bharath walked in the middle because they couldn’t help it - the girls had hooked themselves onto him like magnets the second they’d tumbled out of the shower and into their shoes.
Marisol shivered and tugged his hoodie tighter around his ribs, her cheek pressed to his bicep. “Ay, dios ... we should’ve taken five more minutes with the hair dryer.”
Sarah bumped his other side with a grin that hadn’t faded since the living room. “We would’ve been twenty minutes late. Besides, showing up to group study looking freshly resurrected is a flex.”
“Resurrected?” Bharath muttered. “That’s one word for it.”
They giggled in that secret frequency that made him both warm and nervous. The library floodlights hummed ahead. Somewhere nearby, a car stereo leaked an All 4 One hook into the dusk.
/I swear, by the moon and stars in the sky, And I swear like the shadow that’s by your side, I’ll be there/
Bharath hugged his girls tighter, smiling wistfully at the lyrics of one of his favorite songs. On campus boards, flyers screamed about Y2K readiness and tutoring schedules. The air smelled like damp leaves, popcorn from the student center - and him.
Suddenly Marisol sniffed and groaned. “Why do I suddenly smell Wild Stone again? Mi amor, you wore it again, didn’t you?”
“Me? Of course.”
Sarah pouted, dramatic. “We tried to ban it! We had him in the shower. We had leverage. And yet...”
Marisol tugged the neckline of his tee and breathed him in anyway, betraying herself with a little shiver. “He smells like trouble and bad decisions I’m still going to make.”
Bharath smirked. “I’m telling you, this is the secret sauce. It’s the whole reason you fell in love with me.”
Sarah snorted. “Right, it’s definitely not your mouth or your hands or - “ She cut herself off, cheeks flaming as she leaned closer and whispered the next part in a rush of syllables that made him choke. “ - the way you took both of us apart and didn’t let us come back down until we said please.”
Marisol squeaked and buried her face in his sleeve, laughing. “We’re going to study, Sarah. Use your library voice.”
“My library voice does not cover ... that,” Sarah whispered, eyes sparkling. “But for the record, sir, you owe me new knees.”
Marisol giggled breathlessly and flopped sideways, her hair still damp from the shower. “Ay dios ... my legs are jelly. You nearly broke me, cariño.”
Sarah shot her a sideways grin. “Nearly? Speak for yourself. I’m going to walk funny all weekend.” She leaned in conspiratorially to Bharath, eyes wicked. “I swear my throat is still sore from you pushing me down by my hair until I forgot my own name. And then when Mari ... You bent her over like...”
“Sarah!” Marisol squealed, covering her face, but her laughter betrayed her.
“Don’t act innocent,” Sarah teased, tugging her hands down. “He spanked you until you begged. You came so hard! I counted at least two times.”
Marisol whimpered happily and nipped Bharath’s shoulder. “So good! I lost count after three. I especially loved it when he used his fingers and thumbs in all the right places...”
“Ungh ... I can’t wait till your birthday baby. Then you don’t just have to use your fingers anymore,” whimpered Sarah.
Bharath groaned and tried to hide his blush. “You two are going to kill me before finals.”
“Not kill,” Sarah whispered, running her nails down his chest. “Worship. Break. Rebuild. And lose our final virginities to our man.”
He flailed for a topic that wouldn’t make his ears combust. “We, uh, should get a good table - one of the rooms with the whiteboard.”
“Okay but that part when he flipped us,” Marisol murmured. “We thought we were clever - undressing him while he was daydreaming - and then ... ay.” Her hands did a helpless little flutter like a bird trapped under a heartbeat. “He didn’t just say no. He said kneel.”
Sarah’s lips parted; she looked like she’d swallowed an ember. “I just melt when you say my name like that.” She shot him a sideways glance, heat and mischief braided together. “You are very ... persuasive when you get into Dom Papi mode.”
“Persuasive,” Marisol echoed, dazed and delighted. “I’m still ... marked.” She rubbed her breasts with a hiss that sounded suspiciously like satisfaction. “I just love it when you claim me every day my love. We just love it when you bite us and suck on our breasts like a starving baby.”
“Girls.” Bharath felt his pulse take the stairs three at a time. “These are public sidewalks.”
“Then stop making us feel so good,” Sarah shot back, as she tucked closer. “Actually, scratch that ... Please always make us feel this good. Forever and ever and ever...”
The girls giggled as they drifted past a puddle mirroring the campus lamps. A cold breeze lifted the steam from their hair. Every so often, one of them would reflexively squeeze his wrist, like checking he hadn’t floated off.
Marisol tilted her face up to him, eyes still starry. “Do you know how many times you made me forget English?”
“Do not answer that,” Sarah said, laughing under her breath. “But I did think at one point I was going to pass out and he just ... caught me with a look.”
“Then carried us to the shower like we weighed nothing,” Marisol sighed. “He was still ... him there. The same mouth, but gentle. Soap fingers. Foreheads touching. We’re allowed to talk about that part, right? That part is legal.”
“That part is necessary,” Sarah said. “You made our heads ring in the living room, baby, and then you rinsed the thunder out like you were apologizing to our souls.”
He swallowed, helpless. “I ... like who you are when you’re safe. I like ending with ... soft.”
They both went quiet for a beat, the kind of quiet that adds light. Sarah’s hand found the base of his skull and scratched once, lightly, and he almost stumbled.
But the sirens in their brains were still going off and they couldn’t not laugh. Marisol recovered first and peeked across him at Sarah. “So ... where do we rank this one Sar?”
“Oh no,” he said, immediately panicking looking around furtively hoping that no one was paying attention to their conversation.
“Oh yes,” Sarah whispered, wicked. “We’ve put it off long enough. We need to start ranking our sessions. For science.”
“For science,” Marisol agreed solemnly, even as her mouth curved. “In my opinion, Halloween is still number one.”
All three of them shivered involuntarily as they recalled it immediately. The club, the bass thundering through their bones as they had felt like a dare, the way he’d taken their breath and given it back, looped in neon and sweat. The memory lit their cheeks like matchheads.
“Tonight is number two,” Sarah decided, voice soft but sure. “It wasn’t public or crazy, but it felt like ... a breakthrough. Like we were being remade.”
Marisol bit her lip. “I dunno ... Some of our Sacred Tuesday sessions were exquisite. What about the time when he claimed you for the first time? But today ... the ... instruction ... was exquisite. But Halloween holds the crown because that was the night we became legend.”
Bharath covered his face. “Please do not say ‘legend’ while we are headed to the library to do inheritance.”
Sarah pretended not to hear him. “Okay, we have too many sessions to rank. I agree - that first time he claimed me was just sublime. Maybe we need to do this by sub-rankings. Best head? Tonight for sure. The way he choked me when I was deep throating me ... ohmygawd ... I came just from that!”
“Best hands?” Marisol mused. “Also tonight. The way he was fingerbanging me in both holes when he was slamming into you today. Oh my gosh!”
“Best ... rhythm?” Sarah coughed. “I think that night when we came back from that Indian dress shop before the dance. You know the one that Mia watched?”
“What? Mia watched us and you didn’t stop?” squawked Bharath.
“Hush ... of course she did. Best ‘do as you’re told’,” Marisol added, voice tiny. “Tonight, and I will not be taking questions.”
“Best aftercare?” Sarah’s answer was immediate. “Actually every Sacred Tuesday. I just love the way we wind down with the oiling and the shower. The way he checks up on us and kisses us everywhere after massaging us. The towel on my shoulders. The...” She broke off, pressed lips together, smiled into his sleeve until it hurt. “Yeah.”
Bharath stared at the night sky like it might provide an escape hatch. “You are going to destroy me before finals.”
“That is the plan,” they said at once, then laughed at their own chorus.
They passed the row of payphones outside the student center - one receiver hanging loose, a dial tone buzzing like a trapped insect. A bulletin board advertised used textbooks, a roommate wanted, a flier for a rave near Decatur. Someone skateboarded by; wheels clacked like typewriter keys.
Sarah leaned in again, conspiratorial. “Now for the logistics.”
“What do you mean by logistics?” he asked, dread crawling up his spine.
Marisol ignored him. “We have five - count them, five - women who require ... attention. Soon.”
“I’m going to faint,” he said, absolutely serious.
Sarah patted his chest. “Breathe, baby. We’re joking ... mostly. But yes, there should be some choreography or we’ll turn our sex sessions into a circus.”
Marisol, ever practical in the most impractical ways, started ticking off fingers. “We need to think about rotations, roles, positions. Theme nights. Quiet hours. A sign-up sheet.”
“A sign-up sheet? Rotations? You sound as crazy as Tyrel,” He nearly tripped again.
Sarah wheezed, laughing. “You’re right baby ... Mari ... he’s right this is not right. We shouldn’t be talking about this now. It’s not fair.”
“Thank you baby,” sighed Bharath as he squeezed Sarah tightly and kissed her. “Finally someone who understands me.”
“I was about to say it’s not fair that we don’t have Mia, Ayesha and Zara here as well. We need them to weigh in on what they want as well,” cooed Sarah, causing Bharath to start coughing.
“Yeah ... we need to figure this out,” Marisol said, eyes gleaming. “After all, with all five of us around in the same bed as you ... we need to figure out positions. We each need a role as well. Sarah what do you want? You can call dibs you know ... How about a leg, or do you prefer the arms?”
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