Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
79: Time to Say Goodbye
Coming of Age Sex Story: 79: Time to Say Goodbye - 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 sun was tilting low, washing the living room in soft gold. The frantic energy of finals week was gone, replaced by a deep, tired quiet. The trip to Gatlinburg had already been announced, the bags by the door a quiet testament to the plans. The luggage looked innocent, but everyone avoided looking at it for too long.
Maria’s house was still. Her daughters, Marisol and Mia, were curled against her on the sofa. The rest of the room was a comfortable tapestry of friends. Camila and LaTasha were carefully painting each other’s nails on the floor. Ravi and Nandita were a cozy tangle in the armchair. Near the stereo, Tyrel and Jorge lounged, a silent debate over cassette tapes paused for the moment. And at the room’s heart was Bharath, cross-legged on his pillow throne, with Ayesha in his lap and Sarah leaning against his side. Zara was stretched on the rug like a cat, fiddling with her disposable camera.
It was Maria who broke the quiet, her voice soft with a mother’s concern. “I still can’t wrap my head around it, mijo. A cabin in Gatlinburg for all of them? The van, the cabin ... that must have cost a fortune.”
Bharath shrugged, a faint pink touching his cheeks. He caught the knowing glance shared between the girls who knew the truth - that the fortune was, to him, a trifle. “They’re worth it,” he said simply. “And honestly, who else do I have to spend it on?”
A playful ripple moved through the entire room this time.
“Hold on,” Ravi said, leaning forward from the armchair. “You used your entire semester’s savings, man? Why didn’t you tell us you had so much money set aside. I’d never have split my bills with you then.”
Nandita slapped his arm.
“What? If he has so much money, he should spend it on his best friends.”
“Every last cent,” Bharath confirmed, ignoring Ravi.
Tyrel let out a low whistle. “For real? Dude, you’re a legend.”
“Or a lunatic,” Jorge added, grinning.
“He’s our generous lunatic,” Zara declared from the floor.
“A philanthropist of fun!” Camila said, blowing on her nails.
LaTasha shook her head, smiling. “I hope you know you’ve set a dangerous precedent for all future boyfriends in this group.”
“Hey!” said Tyrel, frowning at LaTasha.
“I’m just keepin’ you on your toes fool. You gotta know I got options.”
A chorus of “Ooooh” rose from the room.
Tyrel waved a hand, deftly turning the spotlight. “Hey, look ... Bharath is blushing. This is about him, anyways.”
Bharath’s blush deepened under the redirected chorus of friendly teasing. Ayesha giggled and squeezed him. “He’s our sugar daddy!”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed, hiding his face in mock defeat. “Enough. I’m broke and happy, alright?”
Maria watched him. She knew the real secret, and the proud, flustered center of this little universe she helped hold together. She sighed then, a long, slow sound that was more wistful than sad.
Mia, nestled against her, looked up. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
Before Maria could answer, her other daughter, Marisol, spoke softly, her eyes understanding. “Nothing’s wrong, mi amor. It’s just that Mom has never had a vacation. Not a real one. She’s always been the one taking care of everyone else.”
The words settled over the room, softening the laughter into a moment of shared, tender understanding. Maria didn’t deny it. She just looked at the packed bags by the door, at the faces of all the kids - hers and everyone else’s - and gave a small, accepting smile.
“Then let me cook for you all before you go,” she said.
The gang shared a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. They had a surprise for Maria, one they didn’t want to tell her now. They all winked at each other like conspirators before turning their attention back to the group. The laughter that followed broke the tension, and soon the conversation shifted into logistics and departure plans.
Ravi sighed. “I’m flying out tomorrow to Delhi.”
“Damn,” Tyrel said. “That’s far.”
“Yeah. The flight’s thirty-six hours with layovers,” Ravi replied. “Nandita’s already crying.”
“Am not,” she sniffled ... while actively crying into his sleeve.
LaTasha blinked. “Y’all the least PDA couple we got, and now you like this?”
“They’re making up for lost time,” Sarah smirked.
Ravi shrugged and kissed Nandita’s forehead.
“I won’t be gone long,” he whispered to her. “I promise. We’ll be emailing. I’ll message you on ICQ every day.”
“Every morning and evening. I’ve synced up our watches so that you don’t have an excuse to forget,” Nandita mumbled. “I’m going to be so annoying if you don’t keep to our timetable.”
“Can’t wait,” he grinned.
Meanwhile, Jorge stretched and pulled Camila closer. “I was supposed to fly out of Atlanta too,” he said, “but Camila had a better idea.”
“We’re driving down to Miami,” she said. “We’ll be spending a couple nights on the road, just the two of us.”
Everyone turned toward them with wide eyes.
“A couples trip? With only Jorge and a car?” Zara asked, eyebrows raised. “That’s bold.”
Camila nodded as she glared at Jorge. “He won’t be driving. We’ll find little motels along the way. Watch trashy TV. Eat bad fast food and see the world ... or at least Florida.”
“You better not go to Disney without us,” Mia said sternly.
“Or Universal,” added Marisol.
“Or SeaWorld,” Sarah warned, her tone leaving no room for debate.
“Or hook up in front of palm trees,” Ayesha added.
Camila laughed. “Fine. We’ll just be driving and be in love with each other.”
“Gross,” Jorge said ... but his smile betrayed him.
“What about you two?” Camila asked, looking at Tyrel and LaTasha.
Tyrel sighed. “We both gotta head home. Families and all.”
“I can’t bring Tyrel home yet,” LaTasha said. “Too soon. My mom’s ... intense.”
“My mom’s the opposite,” Tyrel said. “Rough around the edges. No filters. I warned her. She’s already calling LaTasha her ‘future daughter-in-law.’”
Maria chuckled. “She sounds like me.”
“I was thinking,” Tyrel said, “maybe we’ll bring Mama over here sometime.”
Maria blinked. “Aquí?”
“Yeah,” Tyrel said. “Single mom to single mom. You both raised warriors. Might be fun.”
Maria smiled. “Might be chaos.”
“Definitely chaos,” LaTasha added, grinning. “But good chaos.”
That left only one group.
The harem.
The girls all looked at each other, then at Bharath, then at Maria.
“We were thinking...” Marisol began carefully. “We’ll stay here.”
Maria blinked. “Aquí? But ... what about...,” as she eyed them suspiciously.
“We just want to spend time with you,” Sarah said, hugging her. “You’re family now.”
Maria’s eyes filled again. “You girls...”
“We promise not to corrupt the house ... too much,” Sarah said, solemnly holding up three fingers.
“No yoga positions. No screaming,” Ayesha chimed in. “Unless we’re watching Home Alone.”
Maria laughed, wiping her eyes. “Fine. But if I find anyone in the bathtub together...”
“We’ll just say we fell in,” Zara offered helpfully.
Maria groaned. “Dios help me.”
They all erupted in laughter.
As the sky outside deepened into twilight and the last rays of sun slipped through the windows, the gang sat close. Music hummed low from the stereo. Plans were made, bags were mentioned, and a few tears were shed.
There were no promises to last forever. But there was love.
“Hey! I told you no Tupac in Maria’s house. This is a Latin music only zone,” said Jorge triumphantly.
Maria nodded.
LaTasha grinned as she hugged her boyfriend. “That’s what you get for forcing everyone to listen to your music in your pickup, fool.”
The sun had long dipped behind the pine trees, the winter air outside turning sharp and smoky with the scent of chimneys. But inside Maria’s house, warmth radiated like a hearth.
Music drifted softly from the living room cassette player, Boyz II Men this time, because LaTasha had hijacked the playlist. Jorge didn’t even argue, though he shot a frown at a smirking Tyrel.
“You’ve won the battle, hermano. Not the war.”
“Whatever,” quoted an eloquent Tyrel.
The lights had been dimmed, and someone had strung leftover fairy lights from Mia’s birthday around the curtain rods. Camila had taken it upon herself to make rum-and-Cokes (with heavy emphasis on the rum), and the house was slowly sliding into that fuzzy, contented chaos that only happens when people know they’ll miss each other too much to be sober.
They had come full circle. Finals were done. The semester was over. Life was waiting just outside the front door - but for one more night, they were together.
The harem girls had formed their usual orbit around Bharath, but even they were quieter than usual. Mia had braided Marisol’s hair absentmindedly on the couch, while Sarah and Ayesha shared a giant hoodie and passed a bottle of cherry wine between them. Zara was playing DJ, arguing with Jorge about whether No Doubt’s Don’t Speak was a party killer or a banger.
“Come on, it’s not sad, it’s iconic,” Zara argued, flipping her hair.
“Exactly,” Jorge shot back. “Sad and iconic. Play La Macarena instead.”
“No!” shrieked Tyrel.
Across the room, Nandita had curled into Ravi like a sea anemone refusing to let go. She had barely spoken all night except in murmurs to him. Her normally sharp eyes were soft and distant. Ravi wasn’t faring much better, holding her close with one hand while tracing circles on her arm with the other, as if trying to memorize the feel of her.
They looked like they were trying to stop time.
LaTasha, tipsy but still composed, leaned against Tyrel’s chest as he nursed a bottle of Coke spiked with something stronger. “You okay, Ravi?” she asked quietly.
He nodded, but didn’t smile. “She’s taking it harder than I thought.”
“She’s just never gonna admit how deep she fell,” LaTasha said, voice low and fond. “That girl’s got a steel spine and a marshmallow heart.”
“Sounds like you,” Tyrel muttered in her ear.
“You wish,” she said, but her eyes flicked toward Nandita with sympathy.
Nandita tried to smile like she was fine. It lasted three seconds. Then her face collapsed.
Maria came in with a tray full of late-night snacks: taquitos, empanadas, and papaya slices. She made her way to the coffee table with a tired but warm smile.
“Eat, niños. You’ll feel better.”
“You’re spoiling us,” Jorge said around a mouthful.
“No, he is,” Maria said, nodding at Bharath. “I’m just the delivery system.”
Bharath chuckled. “Can’t let the last party of ‘98 be a flop.”
Camila raised her cup. “To Bharath! Officially the best boyfriend-slash-event-planner-slash-chauffeur of the year.”
“To Bharath!” everyone chorused, except Ravi and Nandita, who were in their own little world.
Maria wiped her hands on her apron. “Alright, enough moping. Let’s play something.”
“What, like charades?” Jorge asked.
“Pictionary,” Sarah said, pointing to a box she’d unearthed. “And not just any Pictionary. I made the words up. There are no colors ... just guesses.”
“Oh no,” Ayesha groaned.
“Oh yes,” Sarah grinned. “Let’s go. Dom Papi and Harem vs. the world.”
“Hey!” Jorge protested. “That’s not fair. Zara and Sarah are good at drawing and Ravi and Nandita are barely functional.”
Maria stepped in, hands on her hips. “Don’t worry mijo. I’m on your team.”
The room erupted with laughter.
“Maria on your team?” Zara said, mock-scandalized. “Traitor!”
“She knows who the winners are,” Camila said. “And she wants to win.”
The teams were set: Bharath and his five harem goddesses versus the “Losers’ Club,” as Ayesha dubbed them to challenge what Camila had said earlier - Jorge, Camila, LaTasha, Tyrel, Ravi (barely functional), Nandita (functionally attached to Ravi), and Maria, who took the role of team captain seriously.
Bharath drew first. He held the marker like a sword and stared at the easel Maria had dragged in.
“Okay,” he said, glancing at the card. He drew three blanks to show that it was broken into three words.
The harem girls leaned forward like vultures.
He drew a squiggly line, then an oval, then what looked like a badly drawn octopus doing a belly flop.
“Hot dog,” Ayesha guessed.
“Alien?” Sarah asked.
“Melting pineapple!” Mia shouted.
Bharath was almost about to give up when he drew a bunch of squiggles.
Zara gasped. “Disco Inferno?”
“Yes!” he shouted.
“How the hell did you get that?” Jorge muttered.
“She speaks Bharath,” Sarah said smugly.
Next round: Jorge drew a blob with hair and sunglasses.
“Groucho Marx!” Camila screamed.
“Close!” Jorge said.
“Hey! No speaking!” yelled Sarah.
“Mr. Potato Head!” Tyrel added.
Maria squinted. “It’s Ravi, isn’t it?”
“Correct!” Jorge beamed.
“A portrait?” Ayesha shouted. “That’s cheating!”
“I’m a legend. Beat that pendejos,” Jorge said with mock arrogance.
Round after round passed. Maria revealed an unexpected killer instinct, cackling every time the harem got it wrong. Camila had a surprising artistic streak, drawing a shockingly accurate T-Rex in under thirty seconds. Tyrel’s attempt at drawing “The X-Files” ended with LaTasha throwing a pillow at him.
Meanwhile, Nandita tried to cheer up, smiling when Ravi got one right and even managing to guess “Titanic” from a single rectangle and a triangle. But every now and then her eyes would glaze over again, and she’d pull Ravi tighter.
Eventually, the score was neck and neck.
Final round.
Maria vs. Bharath.
Maria cracked her knuckles like a prizefighter. “Let’s go, niño.”
Bharath smiled. “Ladies?”
The girls formed a phalanx of support behind him.
The word was “boombox serenade.”
Bharath grinned, then drew a rectangle. Then little musical notes. Then a stick figure kneeling.
“Oh my God,” Mia gasped. “It’s Ravi!”
“Proposal!” Ayesha shouted.
“Boombox!” Marisol screamed.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Bharath pointed.
“Boombox serenade!” Zara shouted.
Bharath turned to the others. “Top that.”
Maria smirked. She drew an egg. A broken egg. A series of arrows. A triangle. Then a stick figure with crazy hair. Another stick figure ... this one looking horrified. She pantomimed screaming.
“OH MY GOD,” Jorge yelled. “IS THAT WHEN MIA SET OFF THE FIRE ALARM WITH THE CURLING IRON?!”
“Setting off the Fire Alarm!” yelled everyone in the Losers’ Club.
The room exploded in laughter.
Maria bowed.
“That’s a tie,” Camila announced.
“No!” Zara protested. “We had better lines!”
“We had better drama,” Jorge shot back.
Maria raised both arms. “Everyone wins!”
Groans, giggles, cheers.
As the laughter died down and people began flopping onto pillows and rugs, the bittersweetness returned. The harem clung to Bharath as usual, though even they were quieter now. Ayesha rested her cheek on his shoulder. Sarah leaned her head against his knee. Mia had dozed off against Marisol. Zara gently braided Bharath’s hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.
LaTasha and Tyrel were holding hands, legs tangled lazily, talking in murmurs about their holiday plans.
And in the corner, Ravi and Nandita still sat curled together, their faces close, foreheads touching, sharing whispers like confessions.
Maria stood in the hallway and looked over the scene.
She saw not a group of teenagers, not a mess of hormones and drama and impossible love stories.
She saw her family.
Her loud, chaotic, beautiful, chosen family.
She smiled.
Tomorrow, everything would change again. There would be flights and farewells, missed calls and promises. But tonight, just for tonight, they had each other.
The last of the dishes clinked into the drying rack with a tired sigh.
Maria wiped her hands on her apron and leaned against the sink. The kitchen lights were dim, soft yellow against the calm night. Outside, crickets chirped faintly under a moonlit sky, and the hum of Atlanta’s distant traffic sounded almost like the ocean.
The party had finally quieted. The laughter had faded into sleepy murmurs, then into warm goodbyes. The house was still alive, full of presence and warmth, but it was winding down.
From the window above the sink, she could see Tyrel’s rust-colored pickup truck in the driveway. Its engine purred to life.
In the front hallway, LaTasha’s voice wavered with emotion.
“You sure you got everything?” she asked him.
“Yeah,” Tyrel said. “Except my heart. I think you stole it.”
“Oh, shut up,” she sniffled and kissed him fiercely.
Maria turned off the kitchen light and stood just out of sight, listening as they hugged everyone goodbye.
Camila hugged LaTasha last. “You better call me every day, bitch,” she said.
“I will.”
“And you better bring Tyrel,” Ayesha said, mock stern. “And his mama.”
“She already packed banana bread,” Tyrel muttered. “She’s excited to meet you all and slap Bharath a few times for balance.”
The laughter was warm and wet with emotion. Then, LaTasha and Tyrel turned to Maria, who had stepped into the hallway to join them. Their expressions softened into something more intimate, full of a secret tenderness.
LaTasha wrapped Maria in a hug that felt like a daughter clinging to her mother. “You have the best holiday, you hear me?” she whispered, her voice thick. “Just ... let go for once. Let somebody take care of you, Maria.”
The phrasing was pointed, weighted with meaning. Maria pulled back, searching LaTasha’s glistening eyes, finding a knowing love there.
Tyrel was next, enveloping Maria in a bear hug. “Don’t you dare cook a single meal for these freeloaders before you go,” he rumbled, his own eyes bright. “You under strict orders to relax. Got it?”
Maria was deeply touched but puzzled by the specific intensity. “Since when do you two give orders about my kitchen?”
Tyrel just kissed her cheek. “Since we decided you’re like our mom, too.”
As they pulled away, LaTasha linked her arm with Tyrel’s and gave a final, sweeping look to the group gathered in the living room: to Bharath, the girls, to everyone. She offered a small, tearful smile and a nod. It was a silent message, a thread of the secret connecting those leaving to those staying.
They left together, LaTasha driving off in her sedan waving while Tyrel’s truck turned out of the driveway waving to everyone with tears in his eyes.
And then it was just the gang again. What was left of them, anyway.
Maria came into the living room, surprised to find the remaining kids all standing in a line like little soldiers. Bharath was in the middle, holding something behind his back.
“Now what?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
“We have one last thing,” Bharath said softly.
Maria blinked. “Otra vez? Another surprise?”
He stepped forward, the girls moving with him like petals orbiting a flower.
“You opened your home to us,” Bharath said, his voice quieter now, reverent. “When you didn’t have to. When you had every reason not to. You let us cry, laugh, love, be ourselves. You didn’t just let us stay, you made us family.”
Maria’s throat tightened.
“We all chipped in to get you this,” Bharath continued, pulling a small envelope from behind his back.
He handed it to her, careful and respectful, like it might shatter.
“What is this?” she asked.
Zara nudged her shoulder. “Open it, Mami.”
Maria opened the envelope with trembling fingers.
Inside was a glossy brochure - Tranquila Springs Spa & Wellness Retreat. Elegant lettering. Photos of peaceful waterfalls, massage rooms, and lush greenery. A full weekend package, just outside Atlanta. Two nights, all-inclusive.
It took her a second to process it.
“I...” she looked up. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s for you, Mami,” Mia whispered. “Just for you.”
“You’re always taking care of everyone else,” Marisol added. “Now it’s your turn.”
“You’ve never been pampered,” Sarah said. “We want you to feel what that’s like.”
Maria stared at the brochure.
Then at them.
At all these beautiful, wild, ridiculous children who weren’t hers by blood, but somehow, by some divine twist, were hers anyway.
She pressed the brochure to her chest. “You spent your money ... on me?”
Bharath nodded.
“You’re all loco,” she said, her voice thick. “Completely, utterly loco.”
Then she kissed his forehead.
And Mia’s.
And Sarah’s.
Then the rest.
She kissed Ravi’s cheek, then Nandita’s, who was finally smiling again, even if her eyes were red. She then burst into tears and hugged Camila and Jorge.
“You’re my babies,” she whispered. “All of you. I never got anything like this before. Not even on my birthday. Not even on my wedding day.”
“You deserve it,” Ayesha said simply.
Maria looked down at the brochure again. “Massage ... steam room ... facial? Madre de Dios. They’re going to have to peel me off the floor.”
“Exactly the point,” Camila giggled.
“You’re going to relax,” Marisol said. “Like really relax. And not worry about us.”
Maria looked at her.
“At least not for two days,” Marisol amended, laughing through her tears.
“I’m gonna cry,” Zara said, wiping her eyes. “Again.”
“You already are,” Ayesha smirked.
Camila pulled out a tissue and handed it around. “Group cry incoming.”
Maria sat down heavily on the couch, the envelope clutched in her lap, the tears now flowing freely. “I don’t even know how to thank you all.”
“You already did,” Bharath said, his voice soft but certain. “When you didn’t throw me out of the house after seeing me with your daughters.”