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 13th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Skinny Dipping In The Aegean SeaThe ladies are from California, but rest of the scenery is Greek, from the August 1973 issue of California Girl magazine: Similar Sex Blogging: July 11th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Erotic Generative Art Via AI HordeFor 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:
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! Similar Sex Blogging: July 10th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Snow White And Lusty Dwarves: RoundupI 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:
Similar Sex Blogging: July 7th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Mad About Your DildosThis 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: Similar Sex Blogging: July 6th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
How To Argue With Your WifeResults 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:
Give it a try! What could possibly go wrong? Face-sitting anime art is by Izumi Tsubasu. Similar Sex Blogging: July 5th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
She Balked At The ZippingI 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:
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. Similar Sex Blogging: |