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  • Writer's pictureRiley Murphy

Filthy, Dirty, AI Sex Pros and Cons-New Age Sex or Fake Orgasm?



Aspiring to a higher energy O
Oh Lightning? Wherefore art thou?

*Looks right into your eyes*


No judgment. I would have clicked too. 😊


So, this post is about the AI scourge hitting its sexual stride.


Has it? Not even close.


Will it? That depends. In my reality, I still like to be kissed when you know…others may not.


I’m not writing this to sway you one way or another. I’m just kinky-thinking aloud about the topic. And, what have I surmised?


Well, I’ll tell you. There is still more electronics, computer chips, analytical data to be studied, before anyone can deliver a spectacular consumer experience, right?


I mean I’ve written about the AI fortunetellers, the AI spies, the AI’s AI and all I can say is, meh. This is just another way for hackers (legal this time) to hack into your most personal experiences until those are commercialized into everyone’s experiences.


I talked about this phenomenon in an old blog post. It was a thought about if we all had a Kraken to release, that spectacular happening would be as common to our society NOT to be called an experience at all. It would be a generic happening to offer to everyone.


Imagine that happening to your sex life.


*Pauses for a millisecond and then gives you a severe side eye*


Erm… that’s all I’m saying about that, but now you know why I write the romances I do. 😊


Haha.


These techno-sex-for-the-O researchers are going to extremes. Why, I’ve read where they measure your brain waves when you reach your heightened pleasure and seek to duplicate this sensual peak in terms of an electronic simulation for all.


But, hey, if your peak is the bar what is the gain? Think about it. Also, ponder this. Would a person who has great sex bother to be measured in a study at all? Aren’t those the subjects we’d want to bring us to better peakisms so to speak? But then, why would the best peakers do it? Cash? Notoriety? We’re talking about the most basic and personal bodily function that is usually shared with a partner. The odds of finding the highest peak person willing to sell his/her O experience seems dismal to me. Why? Because when people are good at something, they usually work harder to get/be good at it. It’s a treasured process that not many individuals would consider selling, as I wouldn’t think money was the reasoning behind the talent – natural or not, in the first place.


*Waggles brows at you*


This isn’t the argument to have. Why? Because everyone on the planet would have to participate, otherwise you are getting the highest peak O out of the participants not out of the populous. Big difference.


*Holds up hands to ward you off*


I know I’m a wet blanket, but you have to understand. I write about sex. More specifically, I write the sex act between people and I try to make every experience they all have as couples different!



Life with a dirty mind
True Story


*STARES AT YOU HARD*


If you only knew how challenging this is, you’d know why this topic fries my bum. You don’t want to know the answer to that. I happen to like my buttinski so let’s just pretend the argument isn’t over and let’s see what shakes out.


Let’s say I have seen the techno team or teams studying, researching, and investigating harnessing the power of the O and I see other discrepancies to pick on that don’t squash the whole idea. Case in point. The need to be neutral in one aspect.


The male and female one.


As in men versus women. We have always been defined as opposite in sex correct? Now? Are they suggesting that it is the unbiased research scan for sexual measurement and subsequently the collected algorithms, that are most important, and not the actual sex chromosome counts that determines our differences that reign supreme? The count has to matter as greatly as the proof of our differences in the result.


It has to. Women and men are chemically different. Meaning they are by no means the same in terms of test subjects and yet, when I’m reading about all the neutral testing there doesn’t seem to be any difference noted.


Weird.


But back to my concerns aside from this. The communication of intimacy between two people is an experience that can’t be replicated. Even if you did put one of those sex-game helmets on each person with a previously tape recorded exactly matched algorithm electro-mapped holographic virtual reality program playing and had them skim over the hot sex that had happened in the research, they would never have sex with that helmet on that way again after the first time. Not ever. Why? Because you'd have to not only capture that fragment of space perfectly and box it in so that it didn't change in any way, but the original test subjects that created the experience would also have to be boxed in so that there was no gain or loss to them. Meaning they would be inert in a tangible reality where they wouldn't be able to learn or unlearn anything. Even how to make a bigger O happen.


This reminds me of a movie I saw in the 80’s called Brainstorm. They made this point about things recorded in a top-secret research lab, not being the same to the participants. Especially the sex part of it. Sure, there was military espionage involvement and the usual drama to flesh out the plot that needed to be handled through this AI transmitted eye memory device, but it was the sex aspect and application that kept my interest.


Yeah, don’t judge me. I didn’t judge you when you clicked on that title, remember? 😉


It was the sex act of the test subject doing it the first time with the erotic-techno helmet recording that had the main character fixating on the use of the apparatus. Not doing it again with someone else because the someone in the test wasn’t the interest. It was the experience of the first test that was the draw. That moment that can never be duplicated because the subject is jaded knowing the process.


Kind of like the first kiss. Only you have a tangible existential link to the past that grounds the memory so you watch and skim it until it’s not worth sighing over ever again.


It’s like sucking the energy out of a room. A joyless moment. That’s only if you leave it alone, but if you’re like the main character in the movie, he spliced the memory and then put on the headgear. The result? He fried his brain with a permanent loop – a spliced link to a captured slice of time in an attempt to relive that first heightened moment when he was a virgin to the process.


Man, that main character would have been better off if he’d left the experience as just that. A one off event. Instead, he attempted to cage the lightning in the bottle again. Can’t be done, as I've said. The bolt that zapped him that first time had already come and gone.


Me? I’d rather not have to worry about someone hacking, studying, or stealing my personal sexual jam rhythm to copy it for someone else’s pleasure and sell it in a game/helmet or therapy session.


Their pleasure is their own as mine is. If there’s something lacking in that department the last thing I’d need is more stress having to protect my thinky-kinky melon from hackers during or after a test.


Haha!


Call me old school but if I needed to capture some lightning during my jam, I would want to figure out how to do it so that I could do it again at some point with a stronger bolt of it. Remember that hard worker I mentioned early, who becomes good at something and would likely never sell out for a bunch of lab cash? This is it. This is THE WHY. Follow me.


The way the AI sex craze to commercialize is presenting itself? It’s almost as if they are fighting to get to a point where they can tell you, “There, that’s it. The best you’ll ever have.”


I don’t want someone measuring to an end point on an occurrence I have deemed to be limitless, endless, and immeasurable because of those things.


Sheesh.


This is why I write what I do. I want the marriage of mind and body, not to be delivered through electronics. No way. I much prefer the experience to be elevated by the tongue. A penetration by way of words, maybe not soft, polite, kind, or romantic at times. Why? Sometimes to have an experience one has to surrender to a different that creates it.


Create is a good word and virgin to the process is a great phrase. The techno-sex for the O researchers are trying to ignore our creativity and duplicated/mimic a process that needs a fresh start for every experience because no two times are the same. If you are talked into believing that they are the same, you’ll never be satisfied. More importantly, there’s the fear that you’d be bored to death with the process. How awful is that?


I will share one secret that I have never mentioned before about my readers. Ready?


Most of them are men and I hear from them occasionally. I like to think it’s because they’ve found a truth in my pages that calls to a traditional relationship model. One that is flexible at anytime to accommodate a certain different and leaves room for creativity to happen. A chance to chase that bigger lightning bolt even with a partner of old. The concept seems to appeal to them, now more than ever. It appeals to the writer in me to explore the opportunity— not to recapture or rediscover—as I’ve written in prior stories, but to push, find, and hunt for that bigger lightning strike of sexual awareness. Maybe it’s this readers are after, who knows?


The AI sexual experimentation surely has potential for greater knowledge to this end. It does bring with it a threat though. Not to masculinity or feminism for that matter. The unbiased AI experience research doesn’t discriminate. The biggest threat that arises is complacency for today’s individual. After all, if you mark the bar with limitations you will always reach them. This is no time to be complacent. Man, I barely feel the heartbeat of energy these days. Not like I did before. Sure, there are existential reasons that I won’t name. We all know what they are, but the good news? I feel the pulse picking up on the other front. The personal front again of readers and writers who are breaking away from the limitations that the analytical datasets and researchers place on our process of life.


They are not getting in my head. My bed. No one is messing with my thinky-kinky jam. That’s all I’m saying.


Well, that and if we are to find the outer reaches of anything. The top bar, the tippy-tippy peak of a human’s pleasure we’d need to study the collective and not the few that were picked or paid.


But hey, if they can read your brain waves maybe the aliens from space know whose riding the highest lightning bolt on our circle.


(Snippet of what I think this would look like)



“Greetings fellow unearth brother. What is this?”


“They call it a woman.”


“I know what they call it, brother. It’s a her. Why have you brought her here?”


“She experiences the highest point of the pleasure wave you are after.”


The techno-alien lab being eyes the woman up and down. “The wrapping has expired.”


The newly arrived hostage taker nods. “Yes. They have a finite existence I was told, and she appears to be close to it. But, it doesn’t matter my unearthly brother. She is the sexual pinnacle of the species on the earth.”


The techno alien boss looks at his holographic screen with a keen eye and then says, “It does matter. Our project to study this has us being paid into the next millennium. By the look of her wrapper she won’t survive the first test.”


“Well, I don’t know about her lasting until the next millennium, but I have it on good authority she does her own pleasuring tests almost nightly.”


“That is good to know. Tell me why do you have the covering?”


They both stared at the hostage and then the hostage taker shrugged. “When I voiced my concerns about your very astute observations myself and mentioned the decaying wrapper on payment, the earthlings told me just to put a bag over her head.” He pointed to the skin they could see. “I fail to see the solution in that, you?”


“Hm. Maybe they thought we were doing an oral experiment? Is there a hole in it?”


At this point, the maligned earthling woman who’s been quiet up until this point, presumable due to fear, rips off the bag. Once she gets over her shock, seeing the grays with their big almond shaped black eyes, she says, “I may need some Oil of Old Lady on my aging epidermis, but there is no cream that I know of that can fix what you have wrong with you. You look the color of dead.”


“Yes, I believe we are. That would be the point of the experiment. Your pleasure wave is the energy current climb we need to restart our central cabinets.”


“I see.” Clearly, that gave her some food for thought. “What color are you when you’ve been restarted?”


“I’m blind to color. It’s your withering wrapper. This is what I see as a concern.”


That’s when the woman looked down and gasped. “Really? I may have a few age appropriate wrinkles but you have…you have nothing between your—” she looked up when it occurred to her. “What did you need the hole for?”


“I believe you call it a microphone.”


“Oh.”


“Yes, the O. That’s what we hope to capture on the microphone.”


(End of snippet)


Bah! I have to stop. My bad, but you get the point. Finding the sexual pinnacle of our planet might not present the most perfect scenario for either party.


Okay, alien abduction aside. I’m just happy knowing that we have a choice and new discoveries to reach using our creativity in that virgin territory we have every right to claim. How great is that?


Actually? How great is using the term virgin without it pointing straight to a nubile young woman who has yet to be deflowered by an experienced man?


As always, thanks for stopping by!


Riley

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