There was no such thing as 'separate and equal' as far as Mara was concerned; and I agreed with her.Even before she and I were married, I already knew... that Mara wasn't inclined to have yet another Caucasian baby. There were already more than enough of them in the world; which, in one way, was part of the perpetual problem of racism. So, the day Mara and I were married, I knew, even as we exchanged our vows, that none of the c***dren that would one day live under our roof were going to be. My daughter wore it for her wedding and decided to sell it rather than having it heirloomed. Are you going to surprise your fianc??" No, it's for me. What size is it?" For you? Well, that's certainly unusual," she said, a little flustered. "It's a size 16." Do you think it would fit me?" I asked."I don't know. You're a man. Can I ask why you might want to buy a wedding dress?" I just like to feel pretty, that's all. I have a collection of wedding gowns." Er, well, I guess it doesn't matter to. I don’t think either of us were interested in the pacino flick at the moment, I know I wasn’t.I noticed his hand was slowly stroking my upper stomach; daring to go a little higher. I snuggled even closer to him, I let my head rest against his cheek. His hand light grazed my right breast through the thin bikini fabric. It grazed it again, then again. Finally he let his hand rest on the small part of my breast that was fully covered by the skimpy string bikini bra.I looked up at him and rubbed my. Lauren was a perfect size six below the waist, but above was a different matter. It was as if Mother Nature had given Lauren a double helping of breast. In accounting terms, there was a sizable distinction between Lauren’s hips at 33, her waist at 24, and her bust at 39D. What made her size even more noticeable was that it was on a four foot eleven inch frame topped with strawberry blonde hair that reached almost to her waist. Simply put, she was breathtaking in her beauty. And best of all, she.