August 25th, 2018

It is with great joy that we, the Priesthood of the Temple of Antinous
Solemnly announce the opening of the 4th Antinous Sacred Games!

Below are the 18 Contestants

The Winners will receive the following prizes

1st Place Champion $500
And the tripod incense brazier

2nd Place winner will receive $200
3rd Place winner will receive $100

All those who attend the Sacred Games Ceremony
To be held at the Hollywood Temple of Antinous
Will judge the winners by casting a vote.

May Antinous convey his special blessing upon all those who submitted entries
To the Sacred Games of Antinous held for the 4th time by the Temple of Antinous
May Antinous also bless those who donated money to the prize fund





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A Video - Please forgive the sound quality
(Click the image to view the video on Youtube)





The Apotheosis of Antinous










































One starry night

On a night full of stars
a new one joined them,
Antinous was his name,
young, beautiful and loved he was.
A shining star sent by the Gods
to light up Hadrian's life,
a loving angel to change his life.
Too soon sent back to heaven
by those who were envious.
In the dark waters of the Nile
the young star drowned.
Pushed into the gloom by jealous hands,
cruel eyes watched him die.
Useless were his cries,
his lover and loved one couldn't hear
surrounded by loud and sweet music
he was deafened.
Oh, Muses, how cruel the purpose of your melodious voices on that night.
Struggling against the threatening waters
he called again, but
the confusing hands of wine were already taking away his strength.
By those who stopped his heart it was defined self-murder.
Is this what you believe, Hadrian?
Do you think your beloved flower secretly married Death on that starry night on the Nile?
If only you could hear his voice now
asking you to understand he didn't want it.
He was happy,
you know,
there was not a single reason to die
nor did he wish to.
Your cherished boy didn't want to leave you,
he didn't jump willingly into the river.
Oh miserable Emperor, deprived of his adored
and lied to, please, listen to this cry.
Don't let his words die,
through my pen his voice came back
to reach you:
I didn't want to die, I swear
I would have never left you.
These words he spoke to me
to let you know he didn't wish
to become another star
on that cruel starry night.





The Emperor Hadrian Remembers


Yes, of course I loved him! Only a fool
could look into those eyes and not fall in love.
To see that ambiguous smile on his half-parted lips
was to read an invitation to mysteries older
than time. When I looked at him in the morning sun
that poured through the window onto our crumpled bed,
the light caressing the hairs on his arms with a delicacy
I couldn’t match, I could clearly see the unease
of someone about to depart on an ancient journey.
Of course, as you’d expect, there was talk about Egypt
and all its strange gods, half-human, half-animal,
they said he’d worshiped, or that he’d simply returned
to the mighty river from which he’d sprung as a god.
They blathered of Bacchus, resurrected Osiris,
but what I would say to these gossips is simply this:
his eyes told me of secrets older than those
of any strange tales from the time of the Pyramids.
They told me of something even older than death,
of the breath that first divided the sky from the earth,
the gentle breath that touched the primal mound
with a lightness surpassing the quivering butterfly
landing here on my hand - the breath of desire,
so light, yes, but a force so strong that it drives
all humans, eternal gods and unwavering stars.
This must have tormented his dreams as he turned
uneasily, lying naked in bed beside me.
Desire had chosen him for its own and held him
in its feather-like grasp with the patience of years,
until at last it drew him under its eagerly
lapping waves that had waited so long to receive
this prince of beauty whom an emperor loved.
Perhaps this is the fate of only the beautiful,
and so the honor is mine to have lived so long
in the presence of this restless, remarkable youth.
But that takes nothing away from the cruel feeling
of loss, and at dawn, as the sun rises again
over the tree tops, I can still see that look
that troubled his eyes, that smile that led him at last
to the banks of that greater river that one day
will welcome me in the embrace of its waters,
and in joyful reunion we’ll see each other again.




"After the Tebtunis Papyrus" 

There are so many tales of how the youth became a flower: the hyacinth, fair Crocus, lovely Hylas seized by nymphs.

The blush of gay Antinous is lovelier by far, a flower fairer than Narcissus pale or Cypress gray.

It’s time to gather garlands of the boys’ lamented names, lamenting even more the ancient youth of dying men.








False Dawn
                Three figures carried a burden up a narrow path.
                “Steady, Marcus.” cautioned an elderly voice.
                “Don’t worry, I’ve got good footing.”
                “I don’t.” groaned someone younger.
                “Aemilian’s having a hard time.” said Marcus. “Perhaps we should rest.”
                “All right.” the elder agreed. “But not for long. The God Antinous must be in his tomb by sunrise.  We don’t want christian swine to unearth what we do.”
                The three balanced their load on a ledge, carefully protecting it from sharp rocks. Young Aemilian untied his cloak, and revealed his chest to the cool night air.
                “Thank Gaia that the moon is full and the sky clear.” said Marcus, as he passed a bladder of wine.
                “Indeed.” old Cleon sighed, leaning back his head.
                The Middle Sea shimmered below them, cupping with broad ripples the African port of Alexandretta. From here on the mountain, the lamps of the town massed like glow-worms on the shore, while neighboring peaks thrust jagged ebony against the sky.
                Cleon mused upon his companions.
                Marcus’s brows were delicately furrowed with early middle age. He’d been garlanded during the last public festival of Antinous. When was it? Twenty years ago!
                The old man glanced over at Aemilian, who stretched himself nearby.
                Like a beast let free from the circus, that boy was fierce. His clandestine initiation to the priesthood had been no dance crowned with flowers. He’d loudly interrupted the closing antiphon of the ritual, pledging himself to things he called Resistance and Patria Ganymedia.
                “Come.” said Cleon at last. “We’ve much to do before daybreak.”
                They carried their God as though he were a fallen warrior. It wasn’t far from the site they’d selected, but the way was steep and bladed with agate.
                “Careful now. Just a little to the left. Now up!  That’s it.” 
                Antinous was gently lowered in a cleft carved days before. Once the God rested on His pillow of desert-grown blooms, Marcus took a knife, and sliced the protective covering of linen from His head.
                Cleon drew himself near. He felt drained. There was a pulse of pain within his right arm. Ignoring it, he caressed the stone cheeks, the thinly carved brows, the hardened athletic curls.
                “Was He really this fetching?” he whispered.
                Aemilian reared back in horror. “You blaspheme!” he hissed.
                “Hold yourself, boy!” laughed Marcus. “This is no time for dogma.”
                “What do you mean? The Divine Antinous was beloved of the Emperor Hadrian. He sacrificed himself by drowning in the Nile so that it would flood again. He was declared a God. He will be without~”
                “Without death, child? Then what are we doing here?” asked Cleon.
                “Really, Aemelian.” chided Marcus. “You’ve much to learn about the world. After all, it’s been over two hundred years since he was Hadrian’s little concubine.”
                Marcus and Cleon snickered, but Aemilian remained offended.
                “Think on what we bury.” he pleaded. “Think on the blood that’s been spilled.”
                Cleon frowned. Just a month before, Aemilian’s lover Gaius died at the hands of a christian mob. When they clubbed Gaius, he clutched an old coin of Antinous to his chest.
                “You’re right, boy. We’ve been gossiping like Vestals. Marcus, would you lead us in liturgy?”
                Marcus grinned, and began to chant. The others lent their throats to the hymn, and soon it sparked the crags.
                “You were the Beloved. You are a God. You will be without death.”
                “You were the Beloved. You are a God. You will be without death.”
                “You were the Beloved. You are a God. You will be without death.”
                Yes, this is how it should be done, thought Cleon. The crone, the man and the boy. The old one felt short of breath, yet he sang as he had been taught in his youth.
                “You were the Beloved. You are a God. You will be without death.”
When he inhaled, he summoned the persona of Antinous in all His beguiling innocence. Then upon exhaling, he beckoned remembrance of his God’s deeds. Each feat of the Divine Boy stroked Cleon’s voice. The old priest recalled Hadrian’s embrace, the sacred lion hunt, and Antinous’s final immersion in a river the ancients called Iteru.
“You were the Beloved. You are a God. You will be without death.”
                Throwing back his cloak, Marcus put an end to the ceremony.
“Come, it’s time.” he said.
Marcus and Aemelian took spades from their belts, and knelt to scoop earth upon the statue. Cleon couldn’t bear to watch. Keeping his cloak over his head, he turned away to gaze down on the harbor. Soft to the east, feathery beams tickled the darkened sea.
To cast away the sound of his friends, Cleon closed his eyes and silently recited the same chant he sang moments before. This was a meditation that had comforted him for decades. In breath, out breath and effortless, it brought him a sense of peace.
“You were the Beloved. You are a God. You will be without death.”
When Cleon opened his eyes, false dawn stroked both water and hill with grains of pink-gray light. Thousands of small flowers shivered with a breeze at his feet. He wished he could remain in this moment forever, hovering between night and day.
                "Come," said Marcus. "Let us go home.
                "Yes." the old man agreed. "We can cook a meal and then sleep this day."
                Aemilian wiped tears from his face and silently rose. A sound came from his mouth that was half sob, half sigh. Without further words, the three men began their descent. Nimble Aemilian went first, perhaps so that the others would not see that he still wept. Marcus followed, ever the priest, with a silent dignity. Though the others did not move quickly, Cleon had a hard time keeping up. 
                His legs felt like taut ropes. A pulsing twinge still vexed his right arm. Each breath rasped his throat and made him feel dizzy. He struggled to keep his balance on the rocky path, but a sharp turn threw him to the ground.
                “I can’t move.” he grimaced, and Marcus looked on him with concern.
                “Aemilian, run down and make sure the way is safe. I’ll help Cleon. We’ll meet later at my place.”
                Black curls tossed from his face, the boy nodded. Quick as a goat, he picked his way down the path. Marcus tendered a patient arm and lifted his elder.
                “There now, Cleon. We’ll be in Alexandretta before you know it.”
                “And then what will the three of us do?” Cleon asked, taking short, hobbled steps.
                “We are the last Antinoan priests left in Cyrenaica.” Marcus replied. “There are too many here who know what we are.”
                They came to another difficult reach of the trail. “I’m going to Constantinople with Aemilian.” Marcus said, turning to offer Cleon both his arms.
                “What! To help him burn christian tabernacles, I suppose?”
“No, I think not. I know that boy well. Once we get to the capital, he’ll find his Patria Ganymedia a snooty lot. They’ll always see him as a Cyrene provincial. Watch your step. That’s it. Where will you go, Cleon?”
The crone cackled a bit. “I’ve been so busy preparing for this burial that I haven’t given it any thought.”
The younger man’s eyes became both grim and loving.
“Why don’t you come with Aemilian and me?”
“To Constantinople?”
“And beyond. I’d like to see the Divine Birthplace in Bithynia, though I suppose it crawls with secret police. And then, I don’t know. India, perhaps. I hear the Gods are safer there.”
Cleon smiled. India indeed! He doubted his carcass could survive a cruise across Alexandretta Bay, much less a voyage to the outlands. Yet as he grasped the other’s hands, he chortled, “I’ll come with you.”
The morning was now a luminous chorus, piercing each jetty of the Cyrene coast with its song. Boats moored along the bay caught sunlight with wet rigging, and the city glistened like a faceted gem.
“I need to rest a while.” Cleon said. Suddenly, he clawed at Marcus’s wrists and fell away.
Pain struck the old man like an axe. He felt completely disoriented, unable to tell where the steep trail ended and the shore began. Each time he tried to speak, a new ache slithered through his body, and the only sound he could make was that of some monstrous, drooling infant.
From infinite distance, Marcus reached down to him, and Aemilian climbed back up to make out what was wrong. Cleon saw cheeks that were streaked with tears, but in an aborted instant, the face of Marcus became that of Antinous, and the tears were veins in His marble face.
“Can you hear Me?” the God demanded, while behind Him a goat-boy danced on jewels.
Once again, Cleon tried to form words, but all that vomited out was as bile turned to noise.
“What do you see, Cleon?” pouted the goat. “Tell us what you see.”
Like a woman giving birth, the elder strained to push words from his body, but only an idiot’s roar distorted the mountainside. Then a shard of pain sliced between his brows, and his voice bled small and clear as that of a Sybil.
“I see darkness!” the old man trembled. “An age of darkness, everywhere!”





Extract from 'the Secret Lives of the Caesars (Julius Caesar to Domitian)' by Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus.

"From the aching of my joints and the increasing feebleness of my intellect I, Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus, Roman historian, realise that I am coming to the end of my allotted span on this earth and must soon join my ancestors in the dark world of Tartarus. Before I go I trust the Gods will give me time enough to finish my history of the proud and terrible Caesars as I now embark on the latter years of the Flavian Emperor, Caesar Traianus Hadrianus Augustus, known familiarly as Hadrian."

"The summer of Year 865 from the Establishment of the City (AD130) found the Emperor at his Villa at Ostia on the coast not many miles from the Imperial Capital of Rome. Then in his 54th year, it was generally considered that he deserved a well-earned holiday from State duties, though his character and disposition meant that the probability was that the holiday be short and the ensuing progress round the Empire, of which the Emperor was inordinately fond, extended."

"With him at that sumptuous Villa, apart from his personal advisors and bodyguards, was his beloved Antinous, the sixteen year old boy beauty whose every whim was the Emperor's command and on whom he doted with a passion verging on the stupidly irresponsible. Hadrian's wife, Vibia Sabina - whom he had married to be politically expedient and who was now wife in name only - had been left behind in sweltering Rome where she complained how badly she was treated to anyone who would listen, and ate sweet marsh mallows until - with her covering of pink face powder - she almost looked like one herself."

"Meanwhile at the Imperial Villa on the coast . . . "

* * * * *

It is evening and the heat of the day has cooled with the setting of the sun so that the boy has gone down to the beach. He expends his energy in racing alongside the refreshing water and occasionally rushing in amongst the wavelets so that they caress the slender lissom length of his legs, and sometimes even go high enough to bathe and calm the even more stimulating delights that hang slightly higher up. He does not dare go deep enough to swim for the Emperor, who has an excessive fear of water, has forbidden it. Antinous knows that if he goes in too far the soldier, Fortunatus, who is forever in attendance not far away and now paces along the shore, will call him out.

Yet the calm blue waters of the Sea at the Middle of the Earth look so inviting, so attractive that he is sorely tempted. He stares at the glassy surface where it returns the light of the dying sun and can see his own face reflected back. He sees his glorious mop of curling resplendent hair, the bloom on his boyish features just being refined by approaching manhood. His lips are aching to be kissed - and hidden (just) by his tunic, his loins craving to be satisfied. Fascinated by his own beauty, he stares almost hypnotised until the features in the water shimmer and change.

It is no longer his face. It is a different face, sternly handsome with a full beard and on the head a gleaming, golden crown. Kelp fingers caress the boy's legs inducing, not a feeling of revulsion, but one of stimulation so that the boy's cock under his tunic twitches and rises. A spume of sea foam, which should not have been there, the evening being windless, springs into the air and seems to beckon him into deeper water. The face in the water smiles invitingly, hinting at hidden pleasures. Antinous takes one step further but is halted by a shout from the shore.

"Antinous, Antinous," it is the Emperor himself, clad in his toga and pacing anxiously along the waterline.

As if the head has heard and now knows his name for the first time, the lips under the water form the shape and the boy hears another voice, seductive and tempting repeating the words, "Antinous, Antinous."

But it is to Hadrian that the boy turns and splashes ashore to be welcomed in his bear hug. "Uncle," - it is his pet name for him - "Uncle, such a strange thing I saw in the water. A head - with a crown."

Hadrian looks concerned. "Fortunatus," he orders, "See if there is anything there. There, where the boy stood."

The soldier wades in and prods about for several minutes with his sword swirling the sand and seaweed so that it obscures everything. "Nothing, Caesar," he reports.

Hadrian ruffles the boy's curls affectionately. "You know how I worry," he says.

Antinous looks contrite. He grasps Hadrian's hand, bends and kisses it. "I am sorry, Uncle," he says. Then he stands up and embraces the man's body, clasping him in contact its whole length. He is only a few inches shorter than him. Hadrian can feel his cool skin against his and, through the light folds of toga and tunic, the swelling bulge of the boy's already developed manhood. The Emperor kisses him on the forehead and gently disengages the clinging arms.

"It is time to eat," he says. "I have asked for your favourite foods to be prepared, roasted lamb and sweet pimentos."

Antinous sighs at what he feels is a physical rejection and together, hand in hand. and followed by the ever watchful Fortunatus, they return to the Villa.

Not one of them turns and sees the figure rise from the water, tall, regal and powerful, trailing strands of weed and carrying a trident in its right hand while around it porpoises leap and cavort.

* * * * *

Extract from 'the Secret Lives of the Caesars (Julius Caesar to Domitian)' by Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus.

"The Emperor Hadrian, always aware that the boundaries of the Empire needed constant security was the first to maintain a personal presence by making what in everything but name alone were 'Royal Progresses' along the frontiers. These systematic journeys, 'showing the flag' as it were, were not enjoyed by all of the Emperor's staff involving as they did in some cases a considerable amount of hardship and personal discomfort, especially in the more barbaric parts of the Empire such as Britain, where the Emperor had ordered a Wall to be built to keep out the rude and uncivilised Picts."

"The planned journey to the kingdom of Egypt, annexed to the Empire only one hundred years before, though, was less unpopular, the climate being more akin to their tastes, and the pleasures and entertainments of that country bywords of civilised - some would even say, degenerate - refinement."

So in Year 865 AUC the Emperor and his retinue boarded a trireme from the port of Taranto bound for Alexandria, after making the appropriate sacrifices to Neptune, Great God of the Sea”

“The Lady Empress, Vibia Sabina, accompanied her husband on this occasion - and of course, the boy, Antinous."

"The ship sailed . . . "

* * * * *

The weather is mild and the sea calm but they have scarcely got out of sight of land when one of those sudden squally storms for which the Mediterranean is so renowned arises unexpectedly. The sails are hurriedly furled and the banks of rowers, sweat streaming off their backs, strain to keep the ship on course through the rapidly rising waves.

The Emperor, seasoned traveller as he is, paces round the deck accompanied by Antinous, neither troubled by the lurching movement of the ship, but down below poor Vibia Sabina lies in her cabin, groaning and wishing that she had not eaten before their embarkation.

Above the roar of the wind and the crash of the waves against the sides of the ship only the insistent beat of the drum which keeps the rowers in time can be heard. Conversation is scarcely possible but Fortunatus, ever aware of danger to his Emperor and his Emperor's darling, shouts an urgent warning. Perhaps their Excellencies would care to go below, out of the reach of the waves which seem almost to be reaching across the deck to grab hold and sweep overboard anyone not firmly fastened to a rigid structure.

But Antinous is fascinated by the sight of the huge brown walls of water which rear up on either side of the hull and appear about to crash down on top of them. There is a voice in the wind - perhaps it is no more than the shrill cry of a gull hurled past by the tempest - but it seems to be calling his name, "Antinous, Antinous," and the voice is the one he heard before in the calm evening dusk back at Ostia.

Hadrian eventually agrees to go below for the sake of Antinous - though he personally would prefer to be on deck facing the elements and motions the boy to come with him, but it is as if Antinous is in another world, staring spellbound at the tumultuous waters and he has to grab him by the arm and almost pull him to get him to the top of the ladder that leads below deck.

As they reach the hatchway and are about to descend, there breaks the largest wave so far and torrents of water sweep across the deck hurling all three off their feet. Antinous is dragged towards the deck rail. Hadrian can do nothing as he is flat on his back, his limbs flailing helplessly but Fortunatus has flung himself across the deck and, just before the boy is dragged overboard, manages to grab hold of, first a fold of tunic, and then, more substantially, his left leg. It is a tug of war between Fortunatus and the sea with Antinous as the rope but the ship's captain and some men see their predicament and rush over to their aid, finally managing to get their Emperor and Antinous to safety.

As if the waves realise they have lost their chance of gaining the boy, the wind almost immediately drops and the storm abates. The sailors mutter a prayer to great Neptune for his mercy and forbearance.

In the cabin Hadrian is angry, angry with himself that he has allowed Antinous into danger. He controls himself, though, as a good soldier should and strips the soaked clothes from the chilled boy and tenderly dries him, rubbing the youthful skin back into warmth and vibrancy with soft cloths. At this attention, Antinous' cock rises but the Emperor ignores this, pouring him a glass of sweet wine and then tucking him in his own bed while he, having changed his own clothes, sits at his desk and works quietly at his official papers. After a while the quiet, measured breathing from the bed tells him that Antinous sleeps and Hadrian ignores matters of State and gazes through anguished and longing eyes at the boy.

* * * * *

Extract from 'the Secret Lives of the Caesars (Julius Caesar to Domitian)' by Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus.

"The arrival of the Emperor in Alexandria was met with great pomp and circumstance and the Pharaoh - which is what the Kings of Egypt call themselves - came himself from his capital at Thebes to meet and personally swear allegiance to Hadrian. The procession through the streets to the Palace was impressive in the extreme and was watched by what must have been the majority of the Alexandrian citizens who lined the streets and cheered lustily. First came the lictors bearing the fasces - those bundles of rods with projecting axe blades - symbols of authority, next came the consuls and proconsuls appointed by Rome to the surrounding districts. Then marched the soldiers under the leadership of the Centurion Apulius and finally, in the Imperial war chariot drawn by pure white stallions came the Emperor himself, with Antinous by his side. Later at the Royal Palace the Emperor discussed affairs of State with the Pharaoh."

"Antinous though was not involved . . . "

* * * * *

And the boy slips out, evading both the Palace attendants and his own personal bodyguard. He knows that Fortunatus will be worried and that, on his return, he will be reprimanded but he is certain he will be back before the Emperor has finished his boring talks with the funny Egyptian king in the strange head-dress and anyway Uncle can never stay cross with him for long. The lure and excitement of this strange new city with its different sights and smells is too much for his curiosity.

He wanders through the streets with their many fine buildings some of which are not all that different from ones he has seen before because Alexandria is a Greek city founded and named after the most renowned Greek of all, Alexander the Great, but there is a certain 'foreign' quality to even the most traditional of Greek style porticoes - perhaps it is the bright colours in which they have been painted, or the bas-relief carvings which cover many of the walls.

Soon, though, he reaches the market place and his nose is assailed by an amalgam of spicy perfumes, cinnamon and frankincense, sandalwood and myrrh, smells of the East which reek of the exotic and unfamiliar. He breathes them in deeply and they excite his senses so that he feels alert and stimulated, itching for excitement and novelty. There are many people around, of all races and colours, Romans, Greeks, trading Phoenicians, even Persians from the East and handsome, blue-black Nubians from the South, and Antinous does not stand out as someone alien as he wanders through the crowded stalls.

Suddenly though he feels himself observed.

He turns to see a youth, perhaps of around his own age, but with an olive complexion and huge dark eyes made to appear even larger by their border of kohl, staring at him. Antinous is not alarmed - he thinks he bears a charmed life - rather he is excited by the attention and he returns the look with a smile.

The strange young man beckons him, turns and disappears through the doorway of a small mud-brick building and with only a moment's hesitation Antinous follows. After the glare of outside, the interior is almost pitch dark but after a little while during which his eyes become accustomed to the gloom, he sees, by the light of some oil lamps that the single room is decorated by luxurious swathes of silks which sweep from floor to ceiling and provide a rich rainbow of colour surrounding a large bed. That and a table on which are a plate with some fresh dates and a flask of wine are all the furnishings that the room contains.

Antinous pauses. At first he cannot find the other but then he sees he is lying on the bed, an exotic figure in an exotic setting. His eyes are bold and alluring and his sprawled limbs are inviting.

"I am Senusret, named after an Egyptian King," he says. He speaks in Greek but with a pronounced foreign accent which is strangely attractive. "You are Antinous, the Emperor's catamite. I saw you in the procession."

"He is my legal uncle," says Antinous. "Our relations are pure."

"Whatever," says Senusret as if it is of no concern to him.

The other boy's dark skin is silky smooth, dry and warm to the touch, and his clothing is loose so that a single movement allows it to slip off and instantly he is naked. He holds out his hand and Antinous takes a step nearer, then another and he is standing over Senusret, breathing in the sharp cinnamon smell of him. Their hands touch and Antinous is drawn onto the bed beside him. Senusret's touch is all over his limbs, smoothly stroking him, inflaming him, and his lips are on his, the tongue probing inside with a gentle insistence. Antinous can taste the sweet wine that he has been drinking.

Senusret draws him closer so that their thighs touch and then lifts himself up to give him a kiss on the mouth, lips open and Senusret's tongue presses against his own lips so that Antinous opens up to the peaceful invasion.

Gently Senusret pulls up Antinous' toga, for he is dressed Roman style and runs his hands over his chest and then down to his stomach. Antinous lies back, happy to be caressed. Warm hands feel over his flat stomach, touching then delving into the pubic hair. Antinous wants him to go further, to touch him, hold him. Senusret above him lowers his face towards the other’s groin. His hand grasps Antinous’ manhood, pulling the foreskin back so that the head appears, rosy and sensitive, the slit glistening with a pearl of excitement. Gently his tongue flickers over the surface and the feeling is intense, almost too intense to bear.

Antinous spreads his legs wide, throwing his head back. Senusret holds his cock the skin soft and sensitive covering the rigid core. He cups the ballsack in his palm and takes the shaft into his mouth sliding down over the head, the foreskin peeled back. Senusret's mouth is moist, warm, wildly irresistible.

“Ah,” Antinous cries, fearful for a moment that he will erupt. His heart pounds. He pushes his body upwards and Senusret takes the full length of his cock into his mouth and throat.

Senusret puts his right arm over Antinous' legs and under him, gently exploring his arse, finding the, crack, the well of pleasure and finally inserting his finger. Antinous gasps. Senusret pushes harder, inside, finding a centre of Antinous' being that he hasn't realised before.

Antinous gasps, "I'm coming," All he feels is his whole being centred in his own groin as a source of pleasure, exploding and pulsing again and again. He knows ecstasy and, unable to stop himself, lets out a high-pitched cry. It is his first time with another partner. Senusret copes with the flow professionally.

Then he says, in his strangely accented Greek. "There you needed that! Now we will drink a little wine and then start again - and this time take it slowly so that both of us will have delight."

* * * * *

On his return to the Palace Fortunatus is indeed furious but only because he fears that something may have happened to him. Luckily Hadrian is still in conference with the Pharaoh and Antinous and Hadrian agree not to tell the Emperor of Antinous' escapade.

Hadrian is tired after the long round of official duties and Antinous knows how to soothe his aching head with cool cloths and intense the knotted muscles by massaging his back and shoulders. He has removed the Imperial purple toga and the gold-embroidered tunic which is worn for State occasions and now lies naked on his stomach so that Antinous can work at his ministrations. In spite of his age, thinks Antinous, he has kept his hard soldier's body and there is scarcely a trace of fat - perhaps just the thickening around his waist.

Hadrian sighs contentedly as the boys supple fingers ease the tension and Antinous feels an sudden rush of affection for this man who has chosen him to share his life and elevate him to a position of such prominence in the mighty Roman Empire. Gently he lies down on top of him, covering him and his cock rests in the cleft of his buttocks.

The Emperor starts and then lies still. Antinous' cock grows and he rubs it in the groove. He kisses the broad shoulders under him and nestles into the base of his neck. Suddenly Hadrian protests. "Antinous," he says, "what are you doing?"

He sits up and Antinous sees that he also has an erection. "It seems, Uncle, that not all of you is averse." He smiles and gently takes the rigid cock in his hand, stroking it and pulling the outer skin over the rigid core.

Hadrian groans but has not the strength nor the desire pull away. Softly he caresses the youth's body, marvelling at its immaculate beauty, its fresh young smell, perfumed - is it? - slightly with cinnamon, worshipping his perfection.

Then Antinous turns over, presenting his own parted buttocks and the puckered hole between for penetration. "No, Antinous," says Hadrian, "I will hurt you."

But Antinous has been made ready by his afternoon's experiences, the entry prepared and well-lubricated.

"Do it, my Lord," he says softly. "I want you inside me."

And Hadrian pushes the tip of his cock against the opening and finds that it slips in with little or no forcing. Nor does Antinous cry out but just pushes himself back on the intrusive cock so that soon he is in as far as he can go, the sphincter muscles clamped around it holding it firmly into that refuge of delight.

The Emperor withdraws a little and then pushes in, soon working up a rhythm which Antinous compensates for to give both of them most enjoyment. His speed increases until at last with one final thrust he discharges his seed into the body of his beloved. And Antinous, feeling the pulsing orgasm, finishes himself off with his hand in three swift strokes. He is satisfied feeling that he has at last given his Emperor something back for his devoted care.

* * * * * *

Extract from 'the Secret Lives of the Caesars (Julius Caesar to Domitian)' by Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus.

"The celebrations in Alexandria were followed by a journey up the River Nile, that great waterway which provides for Egypt a means of transport from its Northern to its Southern boundaries and also, by virtue of its annual inundation of the land on either side, a fertile ground for bounteous harvests. Truly the grain of Egypt is renowned through the civilised world."

"The Emperor's entourage boarded one of the native Egyptian boats with their distinctive triangular sails and proceeded southwards under the watchful gaze of what the Egyptians call Ra, the Sun God."

* * * * *

It is stiflingly hot and even under the shade of the canopy stretched over the deck for the Emperor's comfort, Antinous feels over-heated and sweaty. He envies the brown-skinned youths who, along each side of the river, dive and swim naked in the cool water. The Imperial party drink sherbet, a strange drink with bubbles that tickles the nose and makes the Empress choke and sneeze. Then she starts to moan about the heat and the flies - as if it is Hadrian's fault. She would have moaned even more had he left her behind in Rome. Antinous does not like the two quarrelling. In some entirely mistaken way he thinks it is his fault so he gets up from the cushions on which he has been lying and says he will walk around the boat to try to catch some of the breeze.

Hadrian is about to get up to accompany him but Vibia Sabina detains him with a question about her duties at the forthcoming banquet at Thebes and with a sigh the Emperor settles himself to give her yet another briefing.

Antinous watches the brown path of the river as it snakes ahead of the prow of the boat through the golden corn fields on either side and then further away the brown of the dry barren desert. Date palms spring up from the reedy banks and overhang the water and in the distance he can see the gleaming white twin pylon towers of a temple dedicated to some Egyptian God.

Though the water is not clear, it looks cool and refreshing and, as the boat passes, a dozen or so young boys are romping in the shallows, splashing each other and shrieking delightedly. He could just dive in and then climb out, thinks Antinous, and he would feel so much cooler.

The thought takes hold. He glances round but no one is watching - even Fortunatus has not followed him around, perhaps assuming there will be no danger, here, on the Emperor's boat, surrounded by the Emperor's trusted servants.

Antinous undoes the cincture around his waist and lets his tunic fall to the deck. He stands poised, a slim lithe form, the very figure of a young God. He climbs onto the rail, dives in and, as he does so, there is a shout from the Emperor, "Antinous!"

At the same time comes an echo, "Antinous, Antinous," apparently from the waters themselves which open up to accept his body and close over him. It is blessedly cool under the surface though he can see little except a murky gloom. He swims down and then loops upward to resurface but reeds clasp at his ankles and he is trapped. His lungs need oxygen and there is a roaring in his ears which seems to concentrate into a word, "Ave - Welcome." Strong arms hold him and a mouth clamps over his. He struggles for a few moments but then finally must open his mouth to the kiss of Poseidon the God of the seas.

* * * * *

Extract from 'the Secret Lives of the Caesars (Julius Caesar to Domitian)' by Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus.

"The Emperor was heart-broken at the boy’s death. It was said that he never recovered from the loss and died some eight years later after a period of failing health. The bodyguard, Fortunatus, correctly committed suicide."

"Hadrian's successor is the exemplary Antoninus Pius, to whom the Gods grant good health and a long life."

“As for myself, I commend my body to the Gods.”

* * * * * *

Afterwards Hadrian decreed that Antinous should be considered a God and numerous statues were set up in various cities in his memory. The cult of Antinous though soon died out after Hadrian’s own death.

© Michael Gouda 2018





The Sacred Games of Antinous, called Megala Antinoeia, were held every four years by the ancient cult of Antinous in various cities where his cult was strong, the greatest of these was held in the holy city of Antinoopolis. The games were solemnly celebrated for 300 years until they were finally abolished by the Christian rulers.

The first games are believed to have been held in the year 131 C.E. only one year after the death and deification of Antinous in Egypt, at the site of his holy city Antinoopolis, which was still under construction. By the time of the 2nd Antinoeiad, four years later, in 134, the city was adequately finished to accommodate large crowds and many important Roman officials came from distant parts of the Empire to observe, and many of the finest young athletes, artists and musicians came from every corner of the world to compete.

Ancient competitors were primarily young teenage men called Ephebes. In Antinoopolis the games included swimming, rowing, footraces, boxing, wrestling, and horse & chariot races held in the magnificent hypodrome of the city. But the Antinous games were unique in that they included competition in the arts and music, with theater and poetry and visual was a magnificent spectacle meant to glorify the beautiful gay god!

The over-all winner was consecrated as the living embodiment of Antinous and given citizenship in Antinoopolis, with an all-expense-paid life of luxury and adoration. The victor was crowned with a wreath of the pink lotus flowers, the sacred emblem of Antinous and was worshiped in the temple as the representative of Antinous, and emblem of youth and perfect masculinity. Thus the winner was the Divine Ephebe Antinous reincarnated!



We the current-day believers and worshipers of Antinous have re-inaugurated the Sacred Gay Games, hoping to bring back the spirit of the ancient games as a way to glorify the name of the beautiful god in the manner of his ancient Greek ancestors, and also as a way to glorify and celebrate the talents and prowess of our gay brothers and sisters, and of all those who honor Antinous and wish to take part in his Sacred Games. While the Antinous games were never officially celebrated as "gay games" it is quite obvious that a level of homosexuality was always present as an underlying sacred basis to the celebration. It is this spirit that we wish to recapture, that the Sacred Antinous Games are a celebration of the Homosexual sacred state of blessedness, beauty, glory, talent and profound depth of feeling and spirituality. In keeping with the ancient tradition that was upheld for so long even through the difficult times that preceded the collapse of the classical world, we hold out the hope that these Gay Games will in some small measure restore to the world a piece of the Golden Age, when Hadrian was the great enlightened ruler, and a beatiful, graceful, athletic, young GAY MAN was held up as an emblem of the glory and the peace of the civilized world.

This marks the 4th time modern worshipers in the Religion of Antinous have celebrated the Megala Antinoeia together since the first re-inauguration in 2006. It is our great dream and aspiration to continue with these Gay Antinous Games every four years for as long as we have Courage, Devotion, and Hope for the Future!

The IV Antinoeiad will be held on August 25th, 2018!




We Honor and bless all those who compete in the Sacred Games of Antinous
And we glorify the Champions that their heroic names may live in Trimph for all eternity!






Held on August 20th, 2014


"THESE have been the most glorious Games of Antinous since they were held in ancient times," Antonius Subia said after announcing winners of the III Antinoeiad ... the modern Games which drew submissions from artists from around the world.

"The Ancient Games were held for 300 years, and their main function was to enhance the glory of Antinous," Antonius added. "And that is what our goal was, and these games have attracted the attention of thousands of people, many of whom had never heard of Antinous the Gay God before!"

The Games were a huge success! Everyone who participated felt that they were taking part in a very special event, and that the spirit Antinous was felt to be very active and influential in the proceedings, a high level of competitive spirit was reached, with the three winners each at one point taking the position of front runners, until at last, by a great margin, a final victor emerged!



of the Sacred Antinous Games, with a winning song and video, seen by over 80,000 Facebook followers, is:

Pietro Adjano from Brazil!

Pietro attended the Sacred Games ceremonies via Skype, held at the Hollywood Temple of Antinous on the night of his triumph and graciously said:

"It was a great joy and honor to participate in third Sacred Games, and I want to take this opportunity to say how grateful I am to all the people on Facebook who clicked 'Like' on my entry."

As Champion of the 2014 Games of Antinous, Pietro Adjano received a bronze replica Greek incense tripod with goats heads, a pewter handcast Antinous medal made by Antonius Subia plus $500 in cash!

See Pietro's Adjano's Winning Video on Youtube




Second-Place went to Frater Aser Nox of Romania for his artwork depiction of Saint Sebastian as an icon for gay oppression . He received a pewter cruet by Royal Holland, a resin Antinous cameo cast by Antonius Subia, and $250 in cash.

Click to view Frater's Sebastian





Third-Place honors go Dallan Chantal of Brazil for a prose "Hymn to Pan" which received the third-highest number of Likes at the ANTINOUS THE GAY GOD FACEBOOK page. His prize is a mounted replica Greek handpainted amphora plus a resin Antinous cameo cast by Antonius as well as $100 in cash.

"I am very honored to have taken part in these Games and to have helped spread the love of Antinous," Dallan said during the Skype ceremonies which drew in a dozen people from Hollywood to Christchurch New Zealand and from Brazil to Germany.

Click to read Dallan's Hymn to Pan



These three prize-winners were among 15 artists who submitted entries. Winners were chosen on the basis of "Likes" clicked by visitors to the Antinous the Gay God Facebook page. All of the contestant's entries were excellent and in the spirit of the games, including several art works and poems on the subject of Antinous and of the gods.

The awards ceremony was a great event, but they were only the culmination of the Skype proceedings, which included ritual ceremonies in honor of the Sacred Lion Hunt during which Hadrian and Antinous slew a man-eating lion in August of the year 130 AD in Egypt.

Also, homage was paid to the Rosy Lotus of Antinous ... the fabled pink waterlily which was said to have spring forth spontaneously from the lion's blood which splattered the banks of the Nile.

An additional high point of the evening was when Antonius unveiled the colossal bust of Antinous. It is a plaster copy obtained from a California bronze works atelier which was cast from a mold taken from the famous Townley Antinous in the British Museum. This plaster bust has in the past been loaned out by the atelier to Hollywood studios for use as props in movie productions.

Now this exact copy of the Townley Bust, an actual image of Antinous from the ancient religion has found its permanent home on the Sacred Altar of the Hollywood Temple of Antinous!



The Games were a great triumph for the modern cult of Antinous, his name and image were made known to nearly 100,000 people around the world, many of whom had probably never heard of him before. It was a great success on all levels, and raised a a heightened level of love and enthusiasm between all those who participated. The power of Homotheosis was raised to new heights by all those who participated. And we would like to extend our deepest thanks to all those who participated, whether by donating money to the prize fund, by assisting with the preparations for the event, or by voting for their favorite entry...but most especially we would like to especially thank and give our warmest blessings to all those who contributed to the games by submitting entries and taking part in the competition on a very personal level. With great joy and love, we ask that Antinous shower his blessing upon them.

And now with such successful and wonderful games behind us,
W e look forward to the IV Antinoeiad in 2018!






Kevin Kihn

(Visionary Artist, SF Bay Area)

"The subject is Helios as the Beautiful Boy. As you may recall, the image is based on the Hermetic writings of Giordano Bruno, who was burned at the stake in 1600 because the Church didn't like his ideas - always a good recommendation in my book. I think Hadrian would have recognized this figure as the type of Helios, such as one might have seen depicted in the temples of Mithras. The second is the Sun, the third is Mercury, and the fourth is Mars. The same principle applies to all the others, including Mars. The ultimate goal (or one of them) is to create a pantheon featuring all the classical deities"









Warren Lee Williamson

(The Wizard Warren)

JUNE 2, 1939 - MARCH 13, 2012

Warren once saw a beautiful young man at an Easter choral performance with long dark hair... the boy was a radiant glimpse of Antinous wearing Roman sandals and a T-shirt that said "OSIRIS RISING" across his chest ... He turned and smiled at Warren ... and then vanished into the crowd. Warren wrote this Haiku verse in honor of that beautiful apparition ...




"Antinous Epiphanios"

Maundy Thursday's King,
Brazen, Antinous smiling,
Osiris Rising!





(1st Champion of the Modern Antinous Games)