Chapter 40

The camera lingered on Atlanta’s upper body; her beautiful face framed by its mane of blonde hair, the graceful lines of her pale-skinned neck and shoulders, then ever so slowly, almost lovingly, it moved down to her small but perfectly formed breasts with their puffy nipples...

It was almost as if it somehow knew, in its little electronic brain, that “Agent in Place” would be Atlanta Starr’s final movie, and that this was the very last time it would have the opportunity to display her trim torso to the world.

And then the closing credits rolled.

Damn!

What a great movie!

The standard of directing and editing had been superb, and I couldn’t fault most of the acting.

However, the star – and in my eyes, she had absolutely carried that movie – didn’t seem so sure of herself right now.

In fact, she was looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Like I said, I’d become increasingly aware as we viewed the movie that my fiancée was paying rather more attention to my face than she was to the screen.

It was easy to tell from the start that she wasn’t at ease; although we were sitting close together on the couch, with my arm around her shoulders, her posture could never be described as ‘relaxed’.

I reckoned she was probably having second thoughts about her impulsive purchase at the adult store.

There were a number of firsts about this ‘movie night’ – it was the first time we’d viewed one of her scenes together, the first time I’d seen her on my widescreen TV in full 4K High Definition, and the first time I’d seen her in a serious acting role. It would also be the first time she’d witnessed my reaction to her being screwed by another guy...

Some of the camera angles had shown me parts of my beloved that I never would see for myself when we were making love, and a closeup shot of her puffy nipples appeared on the TV screen at a far greater magnification than I’d ever achieve with the naked eye. And the way her female costar – the Federal agent, not the gang leader’s mistress – had been using her sharp white teeth on those nipples, I just knew that Atlanta’s pussy had been seriously juicing up...

I had no idea who the lady was, but she was HOT. A beautiful, rounded ebony face, framed by luxuriant straightened black hair in a long bob, which smoothly transformed to a professional ponytail when she was in FBI uniform in another scene. Gorgeous tits on a trim and toned – but not skinny – frame, maybe a couple of inches shorter in height than Atlanta. A smile to die for. And she moved like a tiger, the whole vibe radiating sexiness. While I’d been jealous of the guys for nailing Atlanta, with the girl I was jealous of them both for nailing each other!

Atlanta’s character had undoubtedly enjoyed the lesbian sex with the blonde mistress, but with this Black girl, the connection was way up on the next level but two. It was like comparing ... hamburger and ribeye steak.

The smiles, the caresses, the lingering touches, and the obvious reality of the orgasms they both achieved - there was no doubting that Atlanta had gotten seriously into the mood.

My guess was that in some of the other scenes – for example both times with the gang leader – she’d been acting some of the physical pleasure she was getting, even exaggerating it, but with this girl, I was totally convinced that her orgasms had been real, not faked.

And I’d gotten the same impression when the agent’s husband joined in. The link ... the confidence ... between them was obvious enough to convince me that this was absolutely not the first scene they’d made together.

The movie critics call it chemistry when two actors really hit it off. These three had chemistry in spades.

The sex scenes between Atlanta and her boyfriend (before he wound up dead), the blonde, and the gang leader? Nope, those couplings, the emotional link was missing.

I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy about her so obviously getting off with other people than me, but it had been before we’d ever met, so it was firmly in her past.

I had a somewhat murky past myself; we’d mutually agreed that what had happened before we got together stayed before we got together ... so there was no logical reason for me to be upset, but...

Damn!

You know what I’m trying to say.

I knew I’d absolutely won the top prize in the end, but it was far better for my self-esteem not to think about all the other guys who’d been with her along the way.

And watching her suck their dicks and fuck them in full High Definition was more real than anything my fevered imagination could ever have scared up on its own.

The pussy I so loved to kiss had taken more cocks than its owner could count, and although it was now officially a single-penis-vagina, that exclusive status was only a few months old. She’d assured me she hadn’t had sex with a man since the previous August – since the filming of “Agent in Place” – and I genuinely believed her.

My problem was that by viewing “Agent in Place”, we’d been thrown back in time ten months – on the screen it had a realism and a presence that the mere knowledge she’d starred in the movie could never replicate.

Viewing that DVD had been an absolutely in-my-face reminder that an exclusive relationship was something Atlanta had never experienced.

No wonder that Atlanta’s alter ego was fretting that all the angst of her ‘coming out’ to me would return, possibly blighting our future together.

What WAS important was immediately reassuring Mel that her concerns were needless.

(That wasn’t quite the truth; she would have had some cause for concern if she would have been able to read my thoughts. I can’t pretend that watching her have so much sex hadn’t caused me some upset. When you’ve fallen in love with someone, by definition you want to be totally exclusive, and, let’s be honest here, possessive. My ring on her finger, my pussy. However much I kept telling myself that these scenes had all been filmed months BEFORE I’d even signed up for the dating site, they still had an immediacy I didn’t like ... But I’d gone over this ground so many times in the days after Mel had told me she was a former porn star, that I was rehashing them knowing that I was so much better off with Mel in my life than not ... And if my beloved needed reassurance, reassurance she was gonna get – in spades.)

So far, I hadn’t made any comments about the movie, just mostly watched in silence. Given her the occasional caress or squeeze, received a few in return.

(What could I have said? ‘Damn, girl, how did you get THAT in your throat?’ or ’Loving that slutty lingerie?’ or ’You TOTALLY destroyed that cock!’ Oh, and ‘That black girl is incredible!’ would have been an incredibly stupid thing to say... )

As the closing credits ran and the music reached a crescendo, Mel shuffled a couple of feet down the couch and turned her torso to deliberately look at me, her expression distinctly wary about my reaction at seeing her in HD hardcore action.

I gave her my biggest and most reassuring smile and closed the space between us, taking both her hands in mine.

“Wow! You were awesome, sweetheart, totally awesome. You absolutely nailed it!”

Accompanying the words with a tight hug, I whispered into her ear, “Yeah, so I’m TOTALLY jealous of every girl and guy who was lucky enough to work with you, but that was back then, before ever we met. You’re a talented character actor as well as a seriously hot fuck; I almost wish you’d talk with Lucas or Judy about making some mainstream stuff.”

I wasn’t feeding her ego; I genuinely had been impressed with her dramatic persona. Ignoring how great the sexual chemistry had been between her and two of her lovers, she HAD portrayed her character all the way through. The graveside scene, when she’d accepted the folded flag, she’d been the heartbroken but dignified fiancée, her lover murdered doing his duty, and I believed it.

I have no idea exactly what reaction she’d been expecting from me, but it was clear from the way she suddenly teared up that my actually praising her for her performance had been on the low end of probability as she saw it.

And then for me to suggest she was talented enough to work in mainstream...

I felt the first few drops land on my shoulder, so moved her into a position where I could catch the tears as they rolled down her cheeks.

Not something I’d ever done before, but kissing her tears away opened another door into me loving Mel. She’s normally self-assured, maybe even hard, but the little-girl vulnerability she showed right then made me even more determined to look after her for the rest of our lives.

‘Romantic’ doesn’t nearly cover that feeling: it’s an emotional bombshell that I’d only ever expected to experience with something like the birth of our kids.

Yet it went both ways. When I paused kissing and licking to pull my head back and look Mel in the eyes, they were filled with amazement and wonder.

And lust.

Oh man!

There’s lust and there’s LUST.

There was a frantic mad scramble for us both to lose our shorts and underwear, and then she was hanging on to the back of the couch, her head turned as far around as she could force it, begging me to fuck her brains out...

It was pure desire – oh, there was an undercurrent of sealing our emotional love with the physical expression of that love, but her immediate aim was to extract my seed, and mine to give it to as close to her ovaries as I could manage.