Sabita Ma'Am
Copyright© 2025 by Laxu
Chapter 2: Sex Life
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2: Sex Life - Sabita is a 32-year-old college professor—beautiful, loyal, and trapped in a cold marriage. For five long years, she waited for love, affection, and a child… but all she got was distance, silence, and blame for not getting pregnant. One night, a bold conversation with her friend changes everything. Sabita discovers her body’s real desires—and that her husband has never truly satisfied her. That’s when he enters her life. Sanju, her younger student, watches her like no man ever has.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Fiction Cheating Cream Pie Massage Pregnancy Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Teacher/Student Slow
No one had ever asked me that. Not my mother. Not even my gynecologist. As if women like me — married, middle-class, educated — weren’t supposed to think about such things, let alone talk about them.
Still, I answered.
“It’s ... okay, I guess. He does what he has to. We used to ... do it once or twice a week. Now it’s more like once in two months. He just ... finishes and goes to sleep. I thought that was normal.”
For a moment, Megha was silent. Then she burst out laughing — not cruelly, but with a kind of shock.
“What?” I asked, slightly offended.
She shook her head, holding her stomach. “Oh God, Sabita ... no wonder you’re always looking like someone stole your last piece of chocolate!”
I frowned. “Why are you laughing?”
She leaned forward, her expression turning serious. “Because, my dear, what you just described isn’t sex. It’s ... maintenance work. Like starting a machine once in a while to make sure it doesn’t rust.”
That made me pause.
I looked down into my coffee, suddenly feeling ... exposed. Like I had been living in a house without windows, and someone had just opened the blinds.
Megha saw the look on my face and softened her voice. “Sabita ... did you ever ... you know ... reach orgasm?”
I blinked again. “Orgasm?”
She sighed. “Oh god. You’ve never even watched porn, have you?”
I shook my head slowly. “No ... never. I never felt the need.”
Megha smiled gently. “Then maybe ... it’s time you start exploring what you’ve been missing.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Ravi lay beside me, snoring softly, turned away like always. I stared at the ceiling, Megha’s words echoing in my mind like a haunting tune.
Had I really been missing out on something?
Was there a world beyond the mechanical motions I had mistaken for intimacy?
The next day, curiosity got the better of me. When Ravi left for work, and the house was quiet, I pulled out my laptop and typed in something I’d never typed before.
“How to know if you’re sexually satisfied?”
That search led to another. Then another. And eventually, to videos I had never imagined watching — not because I was ashamed, but because I had never known desire as something independent of love or duty.
At first, I was embarrassed — I closed the tab three times in fifteen minutes. But the fourth time, I let it play.
And I watched.
Not just the bodies — but the expressions, the moans, the way the women arched in pleasure, how their partners touched them, listened to them. I felt something stir inside me — not shame, not guilt ... but hunger.
And suddenly, it all made sense.
Ravi had never asked me what I liked. He never kissed me like the men in those videos did. Never lingered. Never explored. He entered, thrust a few times, finished, rolled over, and fell asleep.
And I — poor naïve Sabita — thought that was sex.
No wonder my body had forgotten what pleasure even felt like.
That night, something changed.
Not between Ravi and me — but within me.
After he turned his back and began his routine slumber, I stayed awake. My fingers trembled as I slipped them beneath my nightgown, exploring myself slowly. The way I saw in those videos. The way Megha had hinted.
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