Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
63: Mia, Para Siempre
Coming of Age Sex Story: 63: Mia, Para Siempre - 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
Mia couldn’t stop talking.
She was trying, genuinely trying, to keep it cool, to be composed and elegant and mysterious like Zara or Ayesha were in heels. But every time she turned to look at him, sitting there in the velvet tux with his eyes locked on her like she was the only living thing in the universe, her composure shattered all over again.
“Oh my God, the lights at the entrance ... did you see those balloons? The way the petals were laid out? Like a damn red carpet!”
Bharath smiled softly. “I saw.”
She giggled, squirming slightly in her seat, already breathless. “And the corsage? I mean, that speech - what the hell, Bharath? Where did you even learn to talk like that? You’re not allowed to say stuff like that unless you want me to cry in public, which, spoiler alert ... mmmm.”
He just smiled wider and held her closer.
He had his arm wrapped around her waist, his hand splayed across the exposed side of her sheer dress, his thumb lazily rubbing circles over her hip. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath - just skin and silk. And every single time he looked at her - really looked - she had to squeeze her thighs together to stop the rush of heat.
“You’re staring,” she said, biting her lip, pretending to pout.
“I’m allowed to,” he said, low and reverent.
Her heart flipped.
She ducked her face, hiding a blush. She never imagined something like this. A limousine. A prom night dream. Her sisters giggling behind the scenes, putting this all together. And him - him - looking like a freaking royal. Who knew her nerdy, awkward, too-kind boy had this debonair version of himself just hiding under oversized t-shirts and hoodies?
She couldn’t stop herself. She turned, pulled his face toward her, and kissed him slow, long, and deep - tongue stroking him with quiet promise. His breath caught. She smiled.
“We’re fixing your entire wardrobe,” she whispered. “From now on, it’s silk, velvet, linen and tailored pants. Got it?”
Bharath laughed, but nodded obediently. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You made me cute.”
Mia didn’t even try to hide her smirk now. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be good with flattery.”
The limo glided smoothly through the Atlanta night, moonlight flickering through the tinted glass, catching the shimmer of her gold dress and the slick black of Bharath’s tux. For a moment, she just stared at him, unable to believe he was real.
Then she leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You know we’re having sex in this limo when we get back, right?”
Bharath didn’t flinch. Didn’t stammer. Didn’t even blink.
He just turned his head toward her slowly, the heat in his eyes dark and slow and deliberate.
“I know,” he said.
She blinked, momentarily thrown.
“And tonight,” he continued, his voice a deep, velvet promise, “is yours. Whatever you want. However you want. I’m your servant, Mia. Your wish is my command.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned, melting into him. “Don’t say stuff like that unless you want me to drag you into the back seat right now.”
His hand slid up the curve of her waist, cupping her bare back where the dress dipped scandalously low. “Who said I’d stop you?”
She let out a low, wicked laugh. “You’re playing with fire.”
“You are fire,” he murmured.
Her breath caught again.
God, when had he become this? This smooth? This ... dangerous?
“Okay. Where’s the boy that awkward boy who I met a few months ago? The one that couldn’t say one flattering thing to a girl?”
“I guess you all changed me.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but the smile on her face was impossible to hide. “I’m seriously debating if we should even make it to the club.”
He chuckled, the kind of deep, satisfied sound that rumbled through her ribcage. “You waited this long. What’s a few more hours?”
She huffed. “Everything. Do you know what it’s like sitting here with nothing between me and your hand but a whisper of silk? With you looking like you walked out of a fantasy, whispering promises like you’re the devil dressed by Valentino?”
He smirked. “Maybe I am the devil tonight.”
“Liar,” she said, poking his chest. “You’re my cinnamon roll with a sin kink.”
He laughed again - god, that laugh - and kissed the top of her head.
“I mean it, though,” he said, quieter now. “Tonight is for you. All of it. Every second. Whatever you want to do, I’m there. I want to give you a memory that no one else gets to touch. This whole city? It’s ours tonight.”
She stared at him speechless. When she tried to say something, she looked into his eyes and lost all her thoughts. So instead, she straddled him. Right there in the back of the limo and he didn’t stop her.
Her shapely thighs framed his as she looped her arms around his neck; the dress rose dangerously high on her hips. She ground against him once - slowly - and felt him twitch beneath her.
“Tonight,” she whispered in his ear, “I want you to treat me like your queen. And I want you to beg for my touch.”
He exhaled a slow, shaky breath that made her grin widen.
“I’ll worship every inch of you,” he replied, voice hoarse. “But first - we dance.”
She groaned. “Ugh, fine. You and your wholesome dream date energy. Just know I’ll be thinking about limo sex the whole time.”
“Same,” he grinned. “But that just makes the wait hotter, doesn’t it?”
She didn’t answer. She was too busy licking his neck, claiming a spot behind his jaw with her teeth.
When the limo slowed, Mia peeked outside and saw the glowing awning of Vesper - a famous club, sleek and modern, neon kissing every surface. The line of people outside stretched halfway down the block, but the bouncer was already gesturing toward their vehicle.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “This is really happening.”
Bharath touched her hand. “You ready, chellam?”
“No,” she said honestly. “But I don’t want to wait a second longer.”
The limo door opened.
Mia expected him to step out first - but no. He turned, met her eyes, and bowed. A full, slow, reverent bow - one hand on his chest, the other offered to her like she was nobility. Her heart exploded.
She should’ve been overwhelmed. By the lights. The music. The way every pair of eyes in that line turned to her with something between envy and disbelief. But Mia Rivera was not overwhelmed.
She was transcendent.
Because the man at her side - this breathtaking, tuxedoed miracle of a man - was looking at her like she was the sun reborn. Like he knew what she’d been through, what she’d survived, what she had never dared to ask for - and still, somehow, thought she deserved the world.
When he bowed to her, he did so with reverence and love written into the arc of his spine as he placed his hand over his heart and held the other toward her like she was holy.
She felt the breath leave her body.
But nothing glowed like his eyes.
And when he whispered, “You ready?” She took his hand and stepped out slowly, deliberately, letting her heels touch the pavement one at a time like she was stepping onto a runway.
Gasps rippled from the crowd.
The slits in her dress parted with every movement, revealing her long, lithe legs, the subtle curve of her thighs. Her cleavage shimmered under the lights, perfectly framed by the soft gold of her dress. And the way Bharath held her hand - so secure, so proud, like she was a trophy he treasured - made the whole world disappear.
They walked toward the entrance, side by side, and every single person moved aside. There were no questions or ID checks. Just awe as Bharath led the most beautiful girl in the world.
The DJ’s voice burst over the speakers inside as they entered:
“This one goes out to Mia. His Mia. Because the moment she said her name meant ‘mine’ ... he’s been hers ever since.”
God.
It was over. No man had ever made her feel like this. Not even close. Not with all their muscles, or money, or empty promises. None of them had listened. None of them had seen her.
But Bharath? Bharath had remembered the tiniest thing she hadn’t even realized she said aloud.
She’d told him once - months ago now, almost as a throwaway - that her name meant “mine.” That it came from Spanish possessiveness, not sweetness. That it had always made her feel both claimed and invisible. Like she was supposed to belong to someone, not be someone.
And he’d flipped it. Turned it into a vow. Her legs wobbled causing her to stop walking.
Bharath glanced at her, eyebrows raised in concern.
“Chellam? Are you ok?” he murmured.
She couldn’t answer.
Her chest was tight - tight in that electric, helium-balloon way that meant her heart was flying too close to the stars. Her hands shook. Her mouth opened, closed.
And then she kissed him.
Hard.
In the middle of the club entrance, under the DJ spotlight, with bass vibrating through the floor and a hundred onlookers gawking - they kissed like there was no one else in the universe.
Her arms around his neck, pulling him in. His hands on her back, cradling, grounding, holding her like a priceless artifact.
The club around them erupted - cheers, whistles, even claps.
She heard someone near the bar yell, “Get it, girl!”
But she didn’t care. All she could feel was the swell of everything she had never believed she could have.
This man had done all this for her. Because she meant something - everything to him. Because he saw her for more than she was. She wasn’t just the pretty girl that everyone desired - she was his whole world. Because when she said “Mia” meant mine, he hadn’t laughed or teased.
He’d taken it seriously. He’d become hers. And she was going to his forever tonight.
Mia had never been on fire like this.
The music pounded like a second heartbeat in her chest, lights spinning overhead in hypnotic colors - but all she could see was him. Her man. Her Bharath. Standing awkwardly on the dance floor in his velvet tux, trying his very best not to be completely overwhelmed and failing spectacularly.
Which made it even cuter.
She giggled, twirling around him. His hands hovered, uncertain, until she guided them to her hips with a smirk.
“Zara told you what to do, right?” she whispered.
He nodded.
“Then do it.”
He froze for a second and then nodded again. Firmly.
Which meant: stand still. Let her lead. Don’t embarrass either of them with overly ambitious footwork. Just be the utilitarian lamppost while she lit up the floor around you.
It was perfect.
She twirled once, twice, then dipped, her hands grazing his thighs on the way up. His breath caught - audibly - and she grinned. Her hips began to sway, serpentine and precise. The rhythm flowed through her like liquid electricity, hips grinding against the beat, dress shimmering as it clung and swayed with every movement.
Every time she turned and caught the expression on Bharath’s face - like he was witnessing a divine miracle - she blushed and burned hotter.
He didn’t try to lead. Didn’t even move, aside from subtle arm waves and slow pivots to keep facing her. And that restraint made him so hot to Mia. Here was a man who wanted her to enjoy herself. He didn’t want to impose himself on her during her moment of joy. He was willing to just be and let her shine. This was the man for her.
Mia let loose.
She danced around him like he was a bonfire - spinning, writhing, then closing in. She ran her hands along his chest, slid a thigh between his legs, brushed her cheek against his, and moaned low enough for only him to hear.
And he - he shook with desire. She was the most beautiful thing on the floor and possibly the whole world for him. Mia was desire incarnate. A true apsara as she bewitched him with her dancing.
All around them, the club buzzed. Every single eye in the club was locked on her. On them.
One guy near the bar dropped his drink when Mia twirled and her beautiful legs peeked from under her dress’ slits. A girl near the DJ whispered something in awe and fanned herself.
A group of college boys looked devastated.
But Bharath?
He could care less about what was happening around them. He was staring only at her. Touching only her. At that moment, she was his whole world and he - hers. They seemed to have transported themselves into a parallel universe that only consisted of the two of them.
Mia swore she’d never felt more powerful. More loved. More owned - and yet, never more in control. She kept grinding, her back to him now, butt pressed against his crotch in slow, relentless circles. She could feel him - hot and taut beneath her - and each slow grind drew a sharper grip at her hips
At one point, she guided his hand up under her slit, just enough to let his fingers trace her inner thigh.
He choked. She nearly came on the spot.
They danced like that for what seemed like forever - drenched in sweat and euphoria. She didn’t even realize the crowd had made space for them. The music changed three times. Her legs started to tremble.
And finally, breathless and lightheaded, she leaned back and whispered, “Feed me mi corazon.”
Bharath nodded, dazed.
They were directed to their table which was tucked into a secluded corner in the upper lounge, shielded by velvet curtains. The beat still throbbed, but the air was cooler here, the noise muted. It was like stepping into a private dream.
Bharath ordered for them - mocktails with sugared rims, fresh strawberries, chocolate drizzle, and bite-sized appetizers stacked in a little tower. Mia sprawled across the plush velvet booth like a goddess fanning herself, legs still shaking from the dance floor.
But the moment the server left?
She pounced, straddling him with one smooth motion, she let her full weight sink into his lap, both thighs spread wide and angled just right.
His mouth opened. “Mia -”
Her lips silenced him and her hips began to move.
“Amor. It’s time. I don’t care who sees us - but I want to do more with you now.”
Bharath croaked as Mia’s passion almost short-circuited his brain. Mia grabbed his hands and led them under her dress.
“Squeeze my ass baby. Can you feel how much I want you right now?”
His eyes rolled when he squeezed her fabulous ass. It was pert and muscular with just the right amount of give that felt spectacular. Mia moaned loudly when she felt him massaging her, using his fingers to explore the space in between.
“I’m soaked papi,” she whispered against his cheek. “You made me drip just standing there. Can you feel how wet I am. It’s all for you papi. Tonight you’re going to claim me as your woman forever. Can you feel what you’ve done to me mi amor?”
“I didn’t even do anything,” he groaned.
“Mmmm ... amor, you don’t even know what you do to me.”
She leaned back, took a strawberry from the silver bowl, and bit into it - juice sliding down her lip, then dripping into the cleavage of her plunging neckline.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
Bharath’s pupils dilated.
“You gonna help clean me up, papi?” she teased.
He didn’t answer.
He leaned in, slowly, reverently, and licked the juice from her silken skin - tongue dipping between her breasts, then dragging upward, his mouth warm and desperate. He then gently pulled at the straps of her dress and slowly pulled them down, exposing her spectacular breasts. He took a breath when she was topless. She was so beautiful.
He gently lowered his head and claimed her, causing Mia to almost shriek with ecstasy. She loved it when he mauled her this way. She shuddered. “God, I love you.”
They fed each other strawberries, with him eating off her, and then cleaning up after himself. She made sure he took his time as she cooed in his ear as he devoured her.
He tried to do the same for her - but she took the food only when it was held between his lips. She leaned in, took it with a kiss, then deepened it until she was moaning softly in his mouth. Later, when the strawberries got over, she slid bits of chocolate onto his tongue, and shared them between volcanic kisses.
One mocktail spilled - purely by accident - into her lap.
She gasped.
Bharath looked down and quickly slid his hands under the table, his napkin trailing with them, but she stopped him.
Mia’s eyes were on fire, “No napkin, mi amor. I think you have something that will clean me up better.”
His eyes flicked up stunned. She smirked as he bent forward and licked the spill from her inner thigh, her fingers buried in his hair, her breath catching in pleasure.
“You’re evil,” he muttered.
“You’re divine,” she replied, grinding against herself against his tongue. “Let’s call it even.”
The food barely made it to their mouths after that. Every movement was an invitation. Every bite, a dare.
Mia was dripping, she trembled; he ached; even the table seemed to sway in time with them. The music, dim now, felt like a heartbeat against her spine.
And the best part?
No one disturbed them.
They were lost in their own world. Devouring, exploring, teasing. Every touch, every kiss, every accidental spill became an excuse to play. After some time, Mia was begging for release.
“Ohhhhh ... Papi ... stop teasing me. I need to cum papi ... Please!”
“Hmmm ... and how do you want me to do that?” queried Bharath, his mouth full of her tits
He made her straddle him and then brought his fingers to her mouth. Mia eagerly sucked his fingers into her mouth to help lubricate them.
He then slipped his hand under a slit of her dress and sought out her core. She was so wet that his finger sank in without any resistance. Mia threw her head back as she felt Bharath inside her, slowly mapping her out.
“Si. Ohhhh ... paaapi ... si ... esso ... Harder papi.”
Bharath played with her until she came hard on him causing her to collapse on him. She lay on him for a while until she got her breath back.
Mia bit his jaw and whispered, ‘We should go soon.’ He nodded, dazed, but didn’t move.
“Mi amor ... I need one more ... can you...?”
Mia’s plea became a scream as Bharath worked on her like a virtuoso. Mia dissolved into bliss, her body trembling at pleasures she hadn’t known were possible.
They didn’t notice the time. Between the climaxes, grinding hips, the mocktail-stained kisses, and the thousand stolen touches in the shadows, Mia forgot the concept of clocks. Bharath had finally touched her body in places that he had never done before making her wonder if she had just seen God. Finally, she got dressed again to his disappointment and kissed him again, hungry. They both could have stayed this way the whole night.
But Mia wanted more.