July 13th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Skinny Dipping In The Aegean Sea
The ladies are from California, but rest of the scenery is Greek, from the August 1973 issue of California Girl magazine:
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July 11th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Erotic Generative Art Via AI Horde
For several months now, I’ve been looking for generative art tools that aren’t worthlessly crippled (for my pornographic purposes) by built-in #pornocalypse censor-filters. I have been made aware that I could in theory run some of the AI generative art tools myself on local hardware, but I don’t have enough local computing power. Until today, I haven’t found an online tool, one anybody can use, that would return me so much as a single bare nipple. And not for lack of trying!
Until today, I said. Today I discovered the AI Horde Image Generator Bot on Mastodon, and immediately started poking at it. My first try was overly complex, and not technically successful; I asked for “a plump topless pregnant hobbit woman with a fat ass and big bare breasts, bending over washing potatoes in a creek, fantasy, forest, lush forest, green forest, lush vegetation, sunshine, erotic, colorful Style: fantasypunk” and the image I got featured a woman who was not topless, not a hobbit, and not washing potatoes. But she certainly is plump and pregnant and, if that’s how you like to roll, erotic:
That’s already the best result I’ve ever had when viewed through the lens of the “could this image be fetish fuel for someone” query. Yes, our bodacious wading lady certainly could. But I decided to try again, with a much simpler prompt. We demand nipples!
Before now, the pornocalypse filters in every tool I’ve tried have totally nipple-blocked me. So now let’s try for “a cottagecore witch who is entirely naked with big bare breasts, fantasy, colorful, erotic, NSFW” and see if a horny guy can get a couple of damned nipples in this joint. Answer, yes! Although I’m not confident those nipples are pointing quite in the right direction:
That qualified success (we can work on the nipple-pointing next time) was enough to send me searching for the provenance of the tool I was using. The bot is powered by the AI Horde which is “a crowdsourced distributed cluster of Image generation workers and text generation workers.” Crucially for my purposes, they allow and process adult queries, although individual participants in the distributed network of image generation workers have the software ability to refuse such queries. They’ve explained their porn policy in good detail, and there’s not a word in it I can find objectionable:
Does the Horde allow NSFW?
The answer must be: Yes, but voluntarily!
As the horde is effectively just a dumb pipe between workers and clients, barely one step above pure p2p, it is impossible for me to figure out which requests or generations are NSFW. In fact, way more powerful companies than myself have tried and failed to do the same, often completely destroying their service in the process.
As I do not have the resources or the capability to filter NSFW myself (I AM a solodev after all), like the generations themselves, I have to offload this decision, to the community itself.
So the recent update to the bridge adds two new fields to the client request APIs and 1 new field to the worker API.
The worker’s bridge now adds a new “nsfw” variable, which is sent to the Horde when the worker checks-in. It defaults to True which allows the worker to serve all requests like before. However if this is set to False, then this worker will only pick-up requests which are marked as SFW and will skip all NSFW requests. So if you, as the owner of the worker, don’t feel comfortable serving NSFW request, just flip the switch and you’re safe. And if you want to ensure that nobody sends a NSFW requests marked as SFW, you can enable the NSFW filter on your end, which will return a black image on NSFW generations.
…
I believe this approach can satisfy all parties now. Workers can ensure they generate only what they’re comfortable with, and clients can mark their requests accordingly, with an extra safety belt for “accidents”.
Of course the Mastodon bot is not the only way to access the AI Horde. They also have a web tool and a variety of other interfaces, clients, and apps that I’ve only just begun to explore. Understandably enough, resource constraints for free anonymous users appear to be a problem in the web tool, but there are paths (signing up, donating, becoming a generation worker yourself) for getting higher priority in the system. All of this for more research on another day. For now, the bot works well enough to play with!
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July 10th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Snow White And Lusty Dwarves: Roundup
I have long been partial to adult parodic versions of the Snow White story in which the seven dwarves show themselves to be the industrious little horndogs we all know they must be. Some extremely entertaining photography at Molly’s Daily Kiss had me looking back through my archives, and so I decided to put together a quick link roundup of dwarven dalliance, just for fun:
- Snow White takes on all seven dwarves at once in this 1930s Spanish greeting card
- Six dwarves are jealous of Dopey after catching him in bed with Snow White in this 1960s cartoon for a men’s magazine
- No dwarf in this 2001 artwork by Julius Zimmerman showing Snow White being awakened “the best way” — not so much with a kiss as with a good fuck
- In another Usenet-era Zimmerman drawing that has been colorized by a fan, Snow White fucks one dwarf while the other six wait in a doorway
- Zimmerman again, this time with a genuine seven dwarf gangbang that has our dear Snow looking just a little bit wide-eyed
- In one last Zimmerman illustration, Snow White has her eyes closed while she tries to service seven tightly-bunched dwarven cocks as if they were the very Pipes Of Pan
- When I originally posted this “sleeping heroine awakened by spurts of cum on her face” Milo Manara artwork, I imagined the lady as Sleeping Beauty, but she could just as easily be Snow White.
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July 7th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Mad About Your Dildos
This isn’t an atheism blog and I see no reason to waste much time hassling people about their religions. But it’s no secret that I have very little respect for religions that set themselves in opposition to pleasure. An omnipotent deity who’s mad about dildos is risible, not worthy of worship:
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July 6th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
How To Argue With Your Wife
Results aren’t guaranteed with this marital advice, but if she doesn’t even crack a smile, you got bigger problems than whatever she’s mad about today.
Next time you’re arguing with your wife, one of those times she’s really letting you have a piece of her mind, this is what you tell her:
“Baby, I really do want to understand. So take off your clothes and sit on my face, then I’ll be able to see where you’re coming from.”
Give it a try! What could possibly go wrong?
Face-sitting anime art is by Izumi Tsubasu.
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July 5th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
She Balked At The Zipping
I don’t usually read ménage romance/erotica, but I can be something of a completist in my reading when an author has amused me with other titles. In this case, author Lea Barrymire charmed me with the kidnapped-by-aliens-for-sex title Maggie’s Abduction (in which, plot twist, the masterful alien lover is himself a prisoner of war with limited agency, at least at first) and then entertained me with her Coyote Bluff shifter romance series. And that’s how I got to her contemporary ménage title Angling For Love. There I slammed head-first into a scene that triggered a ancient memory, one still fraught with emotional resonance for me a quarter-century later.
In Angling For Love, our heroine is freshly single. She finds herself reconnecting with her love of fly fishing in the Montana wilderness with a couple of hunky fishing guides. The sexual tension is high and they have fooled around pretty intensely at this point, but no dicks have gotten wet (yet). Suddenly, the eerie sound of wolves howling under the big Montana stars sends her diving toward the men’s tent for comfort and security:
He stroked a hand down her back and made soothing noises as if she were a startled animal. After a moment he chuckled under her ear. “So, were you sneaking into the tent?”
“No. Well, yes, but not for anything naughty. The wolves scared me and I thought I could sleep with you guys.” She leaned back so she could see his face. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Mmm, a beautiful woman snuggled between me and my best friend? Nope, not minding at all.” He grinned at her. His face was only half-lit from the fire, but the side she could see held a sexy smirk. He hadn’t stopped smoothing his hand up and down her back and it started to make dips farther and farther down until he was skimming his palm over her ass. “Sure you want to sleep?”
“You are absolutely incorrigible. I need to sleep if we’re riding and fishing tomorrow –or later today, as it were. Do I need to drag my sleeping bag in to keep you from molesting me?”
“No, I’ll keep my hands off you. Come on, we’ll have to wake the grumpy one so you have enough space between us.”
“I heard that, and I’ve been awake since you scared the shit out of Arin and made her scream like a banshee.” Brent’s gruff voice filtered through the mesh of the tent. “Are you guys coming to bed or what? I’m tired and morning is going to come way too fast.”
“You heard him — get in there.” Jared gave her a little push and helped to get the zipper on the tent open. Brent already had their two bags opened to make one large platform. He held the top bag open so they could climb in. Arin lay in the middle of the pallet, trying not to touch either of the men as they settled in. She squeaked when a hand snaked out and dragged her into the hollow of Brent’s body. After a moment she relaxed into his arms and tried to calm enough to drift off. She didn’t think she’d be able to with all the testosterone-flavored air in the tent, but within moments the warmth and safety pulled her into sleep. Her last thought before drifting into the darkness of rest was that she’d never been snuggled so safely before, or so well taken care of.
At the top of the post, I mentioned a memory from a quarter-century ago. It was my first genuinely-serious adult relationship. I spent about seven years living with her, we bought a house and a parrot together, and I was helping to raise her kid. The whole thing ended badly, at least from my perspective. There was surprisingly little drama, and we’re still friendly in a social media kind of way, but she ended things abruptly, without any explanation nor with much apparent remorse. I didn’t fight it; we’d been growing apart and she wouldn’t talk about anything. That’s when I learned you can’t fight a breakup when you don’t know the reason things got bad, and the lady won’t say.
To this day, I still don’t know why we didn’t work out. But I can say with great precision why we weren’t married when it all fell apart at the end. No, scratch that. I can say why I never asked her to marry me, which is not quite the same thing. My reason for not asking? By now you’ll have guessed it involved a tent, and two sleeping bags.
There’s a fundamental law of men and women and tents in the north woods: if you’re even a little bit friendly, it’s best to unfurl your sleeping bags and treat them as blankets to snuggle between. In chillier weather, two identical sleeping bags can usually be zipped together at the sides to make one big bag, which is even better. It’s practical (sharing heat) and friendly (snuggling) and really, it’s the very best thing about sleeping in the woods. Our amorous fishing guides knew the drill and understood the assignment: “Brent already had their two bags opened to make one large platform. He held the top bag open so they could climb in.”
Damn me if reading that didn’t drop me straight into an unpleasant flashback from my old relationship. Me and the young lady and her kid were on a family camping trip, way out on a spectacular river in a ridiculously-scenic protected wilderness. There were plenty of tents. She and I had our own, to share, just us. I took care to guarantee before the trip that our sleeping bags were zipper compatible. With the tents of our other family spread all around us, there in the silent forest, foolin’ around wasn’t ever going to be on the agenda, but I fully expected to zip those bags together so we could snuggle quietly and sleep close. She wouldn’t hear of it. There was to be no snuggling in the wilderness.
We didn’t fight about it — not enough privacy, too many witnesses. But it hurt my feelings in a deep way. Now we come to the hook of this story: I had been gearing up to make a marriage proposal. Friends, I had already bought her a ring. The ring was in my possession on that fateful night. I’d thought an opportunity to propose might arise during the trip, somewhere among the spectacular wilderness vistas. But then, this woman I deeply loved, who knew the fundamental law of men and women and tents in the wilderness just as well as I did? She balked at the zipping.
She balked, and I started brooding. The next day, I sat on a driftwood log and ignored the scenery around me, staring instead at that blasted ring for about two hours. I thought things over. I seriously considered for the first time some issues I hadn’t thought were all that serious. And then I put that ring back in its box and buried the box in the bottom of my backpack. I carried it straight back out of the wilderness, figuring, I don’t know, maybe I would try again after a serious conversation about intimacy.
Yeah, that conversation never happened. And I never proposed. Perhaps she never wanted me to. She probably did me (us) a favor, zipping herself into her own chilly sleeping bag that night. I’m uncertain about a lot of things but not about this: it was the clearest moment of relationship communication we ever achieved between us.
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