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There’s something incredibly hot about riding your nerdy boyfriend until his glasses slide down his nose. He’s usually so composed, always in button-ups, always with those cute wire-rimmed glasses perched on his face, always muttering about formulas or code or whatever he’s nerding out about that day. But right now? He’s a complete mess.

You’re straddling his hips, knees planted firmly on the mattress, riding him to the hilt. Every roll of your hips makes his thick length slide perfectly inside you, hitting that spot that makes you moan softly. His hands are gripping your thighs, fingers digging in like he needs something to hold onto.

“Baby—” he stammers, voice cracking. His glasses are already slipping, sliding down the bridge of his nose as his head tips back against the pillow. His cheeks are flushed, hair messy, lips parted as he tries (and fails) to keep his breathing steady. You smile down at him, grinding your hips in a slow circle, watching the way his eyes flutter behind the fogging lenses.

“You look so cute like this,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss him. His glasses bump against your nose, but you don’t care. You just keep riding him, faster now, taking him deeper. He moans into your mouth, hips jerking up to meet yours. One of his hands slides up your back, the other stays on your hip, guiding you as you bounce up and down on him.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathes, voice shaky. “I can’t- I’m gonna—” His glasses finally slip off completely, landing somewhere on the pillow beside his head. His eyes, those pretty, unfocused eyes, lock onto yours, wide and desperate.

You ride him harder, chasing your own pleasure while watching him fall apart underneath you. When you come, clenching tight around him, he follows right after with a broken groan, hips stuttering as he spills deep inside you.

Afterward, he lies there panting, glasses askew on the pillow, looking completely wrecked and blissed out. You lean down and kiss him softly, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. He laughs breathlessly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down to his chest.

Your boyfriend was painfully innocent. The kind of guy who blushed at dirty jokes, who still said “making love” instead of fucking, and who had never even watched porn because he felt guilty about it. He was practically untouched… until you got your hands on him.

Tonight, you had him pinned on your bed, shirtless and breathing fast, his cheeks burning as you straddled him in just a tiny lace thong. “You’ve never touched a girl like this before, have you, baby?” you cooed, guiding his shaky hands to your tits.

He shook his head, eyes wide with nerves and barely-contained lust. “N-no… never.”

“Good,” you whispered, grinding slowly on the massive bulge in his pants. You took his hand and pushed it between your thighs, letting him feel how soaked you were. He let out a broken whimper the second his fingers touched your bare pussy. “Feel that? That’s all for you. Now be good and put a finger inside me.”

He obeyed with a shaky breath, sliding one thick finger into your tight heat. The sound he made was almost pathetic; half moan, half sob — as your walls clenched around him. “More,” you demanded, riding his hand. “Fuck me with your fingers like you’ve fantasized about.”

His innocence cracked right in front of you. Soon he was pumping two fingers deep, eyes glued to the way your pussy dripped down his hand. You finally pulled your thong aside, positioned him at your entrance, and sank down slowly, taking every inch. “Oh god—” he choked, eyes rolling back as your tight, wet pussy swallowed him whole. “It feels… too good… I shouldn’t-”

You moaned, starting to ride him. His hands gripped your hips desperately as you fucked him harder, whispering every filthy thing you wanted to do to him — how you’d make him eat your pussy for hours, how you’d ride his face until he couldn’t breathe, how you’d turn his innocence into something addicted to your cunt.

He didn’t last long. With an overwhelmed cry, he came hard inside you, filling you up with thick loads while you praised him for being such a good boy and taking you so well. When it was over, he looked up at you with dazed, adoring eyes, already half-hard again.

You smiled down at him and kissed his forehead. “We’re just getting started, baby.”

Your boyfriend sat between your legs on the bed, completely naked, with his back pressed against your chest. You had one arm wrapped around his waist, your other hand slowly working his throbbing length. Your fingers were slick with his precum as you stroked him with long, tight strokes — twisting your wrist on every upstroke and squeezing the sensitive head on the way down.

“You’re being such a good boy for me,” you whispered sweetly into his ear, lips brushing the shell as you nibbled gently on his lobe. “Look how hard you are… leaking all over my hand. You just can’t help it.”

He whimpered, hips jerking into your fist. You kissed down his neck, sucking lightly on his skin while your hand sped up, the wet, filthy sound of skin sliding against skin filling the room. You used your thumb to swirl around his swollen tip every few strokes, smearing the steady flow of precum before sliding back down to grip him tighter at the base.

Just as his breathing turned ragged and his cock started pulsing in your hand, you slowed down to torturously slow strokes, squeezing the base to keep him right on the edge. “Not yet, baby,” you cooed softly, kissing his neck. “You don’t get to cum until you ask me nicely.”

He let out a desperate whine, hips twitching helplessly as you kept edging him, stroking him just enough to keep him aching but never enough to let him finish. You repeated the cycle twice more, bringing him right to the brink before slowing down again, all while whispering sweet, filthy praise in his ear.

“Please…” he finally begged, voice shaking. “Please let me cum… I need it so bad.” You smiled against his neck and tightened your grip, stroking him fast and firm again.

“Go ahead, sweet boy. Cum for me.”

When you felt him start to tremble, you angled his cock upward toward his own face. With a broken, overwhelmed moan, he came hard. Thick, powerful ropes of cum shot across his face and chest, landing on his lips, cheek, and tongue while you kept stroking him through every pulse, milking every last drop.

You kissed his neck softly as he panted, still twitching in your slick hand. “Look at you… covered in your own cum,” you murmured proudly. “My perfect, nasty good boy.”

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Happy 53rd, Harmony Korine.