Since it is my first sex story on Indian sex stories there might be a little bit of flaws in my narration. I’ll try my best to explain it in the bes... way possible and if any mistakes please don’t mind. So here it goes.The heroine of my story was my neighbour whose name is Renuka (name changed) fair, slim but has a perfect boobs. Her stats were 32:28:30 and had silky straight hair. She was married and her husband was working out of state and used to visit her once in a few months. She had a son. My sons hand was now on my pantie covered pussy. I could feel myself getting wet. I wanted more. When I removed my hand, he left his hand on me. He wasn't moving it around or anything. He was just letting his hands rest on my pussy. I waited for him to start moving his fingers. Nothing. Maybe he was afraid to. I knew how to fix that.I took a hold of his hand and moved it up to the top of my panties. When I knew his fingers were above my panties, I pressed his hand against my body and slowly. I’m already deaf in the other ear, the sign of a true club junkie. The night is typical in that invitations to dance pour my way initially but slow to a trickle when the younger, prettier women file in late and so cool. Lingering on the bar stool, I harden into a fixture. Watching the dancers, it’s clear their spins, markings, dips, and shines are stymied for lack of space, also known as, ‘dancing on a brick.’ My eyes lock on no one in particular but, rather, a single blur of faces, bodies and. ’ ‘Yeah Stef. What has it been .. 10 years?’ ‘Well, I’m 25 now so you do the math.’ She took my hand and re-traced her path through the crowd to her friends. She introduced them to me but I really wasn’t paying attention… you know how it is when you meet people you are never going to see again. I was much more fascinated with Stef. As she talked and laughed through the introductions, I was hypnotized by her smile and her soft voice. It was funny how in a loud and noisy bar, I could pick out her.