Sabita Ma'Am
Copyright© 2025 by Laxu
Chapter 3: My student
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3: My student - 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
When you spend years feeling invisible, the smallest glance can feel like a revolution.
My life, from the outside, still looked the same. I was still the professor at college, the daughter-in-law at home, the dutiful wife — and the woman whose womb hadn’t borne a child. But inside me, a different fire had been lit. Quietly, steadily, and now ... dangerously.
After college hours, I used to give tuition classes to a few selected students. Mostly bright minds who needed guidance, sometimes slow learners whose parents insisted. Among them was Sanju — a young man of about 22, rough around the edges, confident beyond his years.
I hadn’t wanted to take him in.
The way he looked at me during our first meeting unsettled me. His gaze lingered a moment too long on my lips, his eyes always searching — not for knowledge, but something else. But his mother had come to me personally, folded her hands, and said, “Madam, please take him. Maybe your influence will put some discipline in his mind.”
I agreed, out of obligation. Or maybe ... curiosity.
He started coming regularly. Sat at the back, quiet, always watching. Not just observing, but devouring — as if he was studying me, not the subjects I taught. I used to ignore it at first. A woman like me, in her thirties, doesn’t expect to be the object of such raw male attention. We’re trained to believe our worth fades with time.
But one day, something changed.
It was a Friday afternoon. The sky outside was heavy with clouds, and the air was thick with the kind of silence that makes you reflect on things you wish you could forget. I had just finished college lectures and was lost in thoughts about my own failures. Why am I not pregnant? Why is my marriage so cold? Is it my fault?
In that storm of emotion, I walked into the tuition class, distracted. But something about Sanju drew my eyes.
He was already there, standing beside the bookshelf, pretending to read — but his eyes, once again, were on me. Not subtly. Not apologetically. Just ... boldly.
And that day, for some reason, it didn’t annoy me.
It thrilled me.
Maybe it was my mood. Maybe it was the loneliness that had built up over months. Or maybe it was simply the fact that after so long, someone was seeing me — not as a failed wife or daughter-in-law, but as a woman. A woman with curves, warmth, and a body that still had desire.