Selena Loves To Please Her Man porn pics gallery

Selena notices the way your shoulders are hunched when you walk through the door, the deep line between your brows that never quite smooths out anymore, the way you drop your bag like it weighs a ton and sigh before you even say hello. She doesn't ask how your day was. She already knows. The project deadline is breathing down your neck, last-minute changes keep piling up, and every night you come home later, eyes tired, body wired from too much coffee and not enough sleep. She doesn't say a word about it. Instead she takes your hand, leads you straight to the bathroom without explanation. The tub is already filling, steam rising in lazy curls, the air scented with lavender and eucalyptus. Candles flicker along the edge, soft golden light dancing on the tiles. She helps you out of your shirt, fingers gentle on the tense muscles of your back, then your pants, until you're standing naked in front of her. No teasing, no rush. Just quiet care. "Get in," she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. You sink into the hot water with a groan that comes from somewhere deep. The heat seeps into your bones, loosening knots you didn't even know were there. Selena kneels beside the tub, sleeves rolled up, and starts on your neck. Her thumbs press into the base of your skull, circling slow and firm, working down to the tight cords along your shoulders. You close your eyes, head tipping forward as she finds every sore spot, kneading until the ache starts to melt away. After a while she stands, dries her hands, and disappears to the kitchen. When she comes back she's carrying a plate: thick slices of fresh bread, creamy avocado, smoked salmon, a drizzle of olive oil, a sprinkle of sea salt and cracked pepper. Simple, perfect. She sits on the edge of the tub, feeds you bites between gentle strokes of her fingers through your wet hair. "You don't have to do this," you say quietly, voice rough from exhaustion. "I know," she answers, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. "But I want to." Once the water starts to cool she helps you out, wraps you in the biggest towel, leads you to the bedroom. The lights are low, sheets already turned down. She pushes you gently onto your stomach, straddles your thighs, and continues the massage%u2014long strokes down your back, thumbs digging into the muscles beside your spine, palms gliding over your ass, then up again. Every touch is deliberate, soothing, but there's heat building underneath it too. You feel yourself starting to relax in a different way, blood flowing warmer, cock stirring against the sheets. Selena notices. Of course she does. She leans down, lips brushing your ear. "You've been carrying so much tension. Let me take care of that too." She turns you over, towel falling away. You're already half-hard, and she smiles softly, no smugness, just affection mixed with want. She kisses you slow and deep, tongue sliding against yours while her hand wraps around your cock, stroking lazy and firm. No hurry. She wants this to last, wants every touch to flood you with feel-good chemicals, to wash away the stress in waves of pleasure. She kisses down your chest, tongue circling a nipple, then lower, until her mouth closes over you. Warm, wet, perfect suction. She takes her time, licking slow stripes up the underside, swirling around the head, then sliding down until her lips meet her fist. You groan, fingers threading through her hair, hips lifting instinctively. She hums around you, the vibration shooting straight up your spine. When you're throbbing and leaking she climbs up, straddles your hips, guides you inside her in one slow, slick descent. She's soaked already, from touching you, from seeing how much you needed this. She doesn't bounce right away. She rocks gently, grinding her clit against your pelvis in tight circles, inner walls fluttering around you. Her hands brace on your chest, breasts swaying softly with every roll of her hips. "Feel that?" she whispers, voice breathy. "Just us. Nothing else exists right now." You grip her hips, thrusting up to meet her, deep and steady. She moans, head falling back, hair spilling over her shoulders. The rhythm builds slowly%u2014long, rolling strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside her, every drag of her tight heat pulling you closer to the edge. You sit up, wrap your arms around her, bury your face between her breasts, sucking one nipple into your mouth while she rides you harder now, faster, chasing her own release. She comes first, shuddering around you, pussy clenching in rhythmic pulses, a soft cry escaping her lips. The sight, the feel of her coming undone tips you over. You thrust deep one last time and spill inside her, groaning against her skin, hips jerking as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you. Endorphins flood every nerve, washing away the last traces of the day's tension. She doesn't move right away. She stays seated on you, arms around your neck, forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard. After a minute she kisses you softly, lazily, then whispers, "Better?" You laugh quietly, the sound lighter than it's been in weeks. "Much better." She smiles, kisses your nose. "Good. Because we're not done. Shower, then bed. And tomorrow... maybe I make you stay home. Just one day. No project. No emails. Just me, you, and more of this." You pull her down beside you, tangle your legs together, already feeling the deep, bone-melting relaxation settle in. Yeah. That sounds perfect.