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I arrived early and sat at a booth from which I had a clear view of the entrance. When she got there, I recognized her instantly from her profile pictures: tall, long blonde hair and slim, except for an amazing pair of tits. She was wearing a tight fitting burnt orange dress that showcased her hourglass figure. If you’d asked any of my friends about “John’s type,” they would have shown you a picture of Denise.I got up and greeted her with a friendly but respectful hug and kiss on the cheek. I was incredibly attracted to her, but I didn’t want her to think that all I wanted was to get into her panties. We slid into the booth on opposite sides and I noticed that Denise was smiling as if I was missing out on an inside joke. “What’s so funny?” I asked.“Nothing,” she giggled. “I’m just happy to meet you in person.The waitress soon brought us glasses of white wine and we shared a plate of calamari as an appetizer. I know that we both had main courses too, but I have no idea what I ordered.. She hated me being the youngestand she hated me being a boy. After all I had displaced her as theyoungest child, up until then she had been very spoilt throughout herchildhood and believing she was the closest thing to a son my parentsnever had, she had grown up as into bullying tomboy.Of course, I didn't take much notice of her as I was a growing child, butfrom the age of 8 things suddenly changed. It all started one summer,father was never home much when I was little but at that summer afterdaily rows with my mother, he left us for good and I was left alone withmy her and my big sister.Father leaving had left us quite poor, Mum had to go out to work, yetwhilst my sister seemed to be well dressed whilst I had to do with handme downs or second hand clothing. In school I had my school uniform ofcourse, but sometimes, when the washing hadn't dried or was delayedbecause of Mum's work, then the vests I had to wear beneath my shirt weremy sister's old ones that had been stored in the back.
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