Bastard Life

To suck-or devour

Neal Boulton — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 16:57:33 -0700

“I want to learn to give head like a man,” she said. “Tell me how it’s different.” In a drunken moment of openness, I had told her about my bisexual past, a youthful experiment that I was growing out of in my early thirties. Usually, when I was trying to pick up women in bars, I kept this information to myself. A lot of women were turned off by a man who’d had sex with other men, but then, once in a while, the truth crept out, and luckily, this particular woman-Tracie was her name-was intrigued, wanted to know all about it, was obviously turned on by the very idea. I supposed that one of the reasons my secret had slipped out was because we were getting along so well, and my guard was down. We were both singing along animatedly when an old song by the Smiths came on the jukebox, and the topic of conversation had very casually taken a turn from the singer Morrissey’s alleged asexuality to sexual orientation in general.

When I’d admitted to having had bisexual experiences, she asked me whether men or women gave better blow jobs, and I said-because it’s generally true-that beyond a doubt, men do. A man knows what it feels like to receive a blow job, and so it’s obvious that a man would have a better instinct about how to give one. It was clear to me that this got Tracie’s feminist dander up. She was very competitive, she said, and thought she should be able to learn to do this as well as any man could, despite the drawback of not having a penis of her own. Besides that, she’d been told by men that she was very good at it, but as far as she knew, none of those men had ever gotten head from another man. So the challenge was on, and I took her back to my apartment to discuss it further.

It was a short walk from the Greenwich Village bar to my place in Chelsea. We laughed and flirted all the way up 7th Avenue, talking about our lives, getting to know one another. She was a copy editor, and I was a techie doing various types of freelance computer work from programming to web design. She was a native New Yorker, and I was originally from Alabama. Her father was South American, which explained the slightly ambiguous ethnicity that I found exotic and interesting about her. Along the way, we made fun of people we saw who were dressed poorly or acting bizarre, such as one typically sees on a Friday night in Manhattan. A casual observer would have thought we were old pals, would never have guessed that we just met an hour before in a bar. When I opened the door to my apartment, though, I immediately came back to the reason we were here-a lesson in giving a blow job like a man.

“First of all,” I told her as I flicked on the lights, “you have to really want it, and not like you want a piece of candy. It’s not a lollipop. You have to want it like you want a piece of steak. You have to be ravenous for it. Typically, women suck cock. Men devour it.”

“An interesting distinction,” she said. “But no teeth, of course...”-Robert Peregrine

Lets play Dr.

Neal Boulton — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 14:43:13 -0800

Expanding. BastardLife is invading LA, where we have begun to cover the slippery sex lives of some of your favorite celebs. In honor of our favorite naughty town-please permit us to play Dr. with you (LA's prodigal son Dr. Dre that is). Stay hot, be safe, and love thy neighbor through the night.-C.D.

Slippery when Mick

Neal Boulton — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 15:05:36 -0800

Fuckin' em All by Mickey Avelon. If BastardLife had a national anthem, this would have to be it. Thanks, Mick.-N.B.

Morning after music

Neal Boulton — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 07:07:27 -0800

House of Cards by Radiohead. Today, just stay in or go back to bed.-N.B.

Out and about

Neal Boulton — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 07:07:35 -0800

Let your fingers do the walking. On your way to New York City for the first time (or tenth)? Not been out in awhile? Moving in? Or, just coming out and want to put yourself in the mix? When I came out in 1985 I had never been to a gay bar, let alone even knew where to go. I found my way by driving into town to where I had heard gay men lived, parked my big old navy blue nearly dead '75 Chevy, and followed two men who I thought might be gay and together into a nondescript club with no sign on the door. Luckily, I scored and found myself in a place called Badlands in Washington, D.C. (now Halo). The dance floor was all laser lights, poured in fog, and guys in leather harnesses snorting poppers while dancing the night away-suddenly, with me (I was only 17 after all). Today, knowing where to go for all of your LGBT desires is not as easy, which is why we recommend HX Magazine. A free weekly publication with hot covers, absolutely-right-now-content as well as event, party, and club listings, and an online component in which you can type in what you want and they recommend where to go. Sort of like the yellow pages, but pink. Online now, and worth it.-N.B.

Calvin Klein brings sexy back

Neal Boulton — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 11:27:54 -0800

So BastardLife. Our friends at Fashionologie always publish the hottest news: "It's been a few years since Brooke Shields told us that nothing comes between her and her Calvins-almost two decades to be exact. Not since the early 1980s, when those Calvin Klein Jeans commercials were running, has the brand tried to top them. Enter 2009, the year the label finally gives it another go, with a grainy Steven Meisel-shot commercial featuring Anna Selezneva, Anna Maria Jagodzinska, and Natasha Poly greased up and writhing in nothing but their Calvins. The ads have already been banned from even late-night cable TV-nothing CK isn't used to, since the same thing happened last year with their Eva Mendes Secret Obsession commercial, but they plan on having this one actually make it on TV in the US. An edited version will air on American cable, and countries like Italy, France, Spain, and Germany will run the unedited version."-Fashionologie

Pansexual pop

Neal Boulton — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 14:01:07 -0800

2:00 P.M. The Mars Bar, Manhattan. The bar was dark and stale beer stenched, but his pouty fashion lips and black mascara traced almond eyes were reflecting the intermittent blue-black light of an adjacent TV screen. The audible sounds-the clink of glasses, The Clash from a tacky multi-colored jukebox, and a nearby patron bragging about a coke score-were worlds away from the radial swirls of sexually charged ambient post electronica and indelible voices of Lonni Bahls and his band, Whore's Mascara, when we sat down today to talk about their latest album, Like This But Sexy.

"Each and every track on the album was made with blood, sweat, tears-and ample amounts of lube," Loni says quite seriously, gesturing calmly with an air of Ziggy Stardust, Mick Jagger, and a kind of tired but fabulous old female porn queen. And it makes sense-the new tracks, their best ever, are a collection of refined orbic and ambient floods of irrepressibly high quality music due mainly to their active ingredients: high craft, poignant narratives, and just the right ratio of provocation.

Last Wednesday night, the band invaded New York's Mercury Lounge to perform from their new album, something that created a glint in Lonni's eye when I asked about their often slutty performances in which polyamory and pansexuality abound. "We're trying our best to limit the amount of onstage fondling, tonguing, and nudity, but sometimes it's hard," he says leaning in as if I may truly understand the band's problem here, then laughs, "Pun intended." On sale now, and worth it.-N.B.

In a recession, just stay in bed!

Neal Boulton — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 17:59:17 -0800

Calvin Klein underwear. So hot all you'll want to do is take them off. Get your pair now.-N.B.

Special advertisement.

My kind of girl

Neal Boulton — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 13:17:52 -0800

Vogue, Paris Edition. How could I resist posting this, seeing a I have two of them inked on each of my forearms thanks to Adam Suerte's brilliant tattoo artistry. The 2009 Vogue Paris calendar, which comes as a supplement to the December/January issue, features fourteen hot women all photographed brilliantly by Terry Richardson and styled by Carine Roitfeld-as pinups in Louis Vuitton lingerie and shoes. Jourdan Dunn is a sexy nurse, Ali Michael a sexy cheerleader, Eniko Mihalik graces the cover as sexy kitten. Carine even included a spread for the solar months, with patrons saints Alber (Elbaz), Gareth (Pugh), Lara (Stone), and their ilk celebrated.(Fashionologie.com).-N.B.

Morning after music

Neal Boulton — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 05:29:02 -0800

Don't let the moment go. Take it in-and hold on.-N.B

After Ash and Mazzy Star, check out more morning after music right here, like Radio Head's Creep.