Andrew Moncrieff, 'The Imprudent Boy'

Alfred Bernert, Helmut mit dem Speer (1933)

Michael Clark

 

Francisco Lachowski

J J Henner, Le Jeune Baigneur endormi

 

Charles78, 'one hot gay blonde'

André-César Vermare, 'Giotto'

Alexander Ludwig

Auguste Joseph, Truphème Satyre mordu par un serpent

Nir Arieli, Joshua Guillemot-Rodgerson in 'Flower He Is'
(Headpiece design by Anthony Brownie)

Litha

[H/T: LITHA 🌞 - playlist by Kat Steele | Spotify]

Cernunnos - available on line, for a small fee!

Aleksandra Kingo, ‘Boys + Flowers’

Sergey Petrovich Panasenko, Transfiguration (1993)

Vegvisir tattoo – Hadrian's Wall From Inspirationde.com

George A. Reid, Forbidden Fruit (1889)

Photointerdit, 'Respectfully your's, UNCUT COCK'

Christopher Allen

Mysterious and enigmatic!

I don't know what this is or where it's from, but I certainly feel it fits with the theme of this blog.

Brian Oldham

ttoboe, 'Apollo kills the python dragon' (2021)

Nea, lensed in the Chartreuse Mountains, in the French Prealps by Jacques Noir.

“Roots and leaves. Feet and lungs. The convergence of life forms, made apart to be together. One Earth. One life. Organisms as organs of this organic globe. United to thrive. Live. To sing the majesty of its own beauty.

Vibrating grounds under my feet. Rooted. Chills spreading through my skin when ferns caress my spin. Peace, oh peace filling my lungs at each breath. Incandescent green of the vast foliage cover. Leaves. 

Confront the vulnerability of a body to the might of the mountains. Connect. Breath.”

[H/T: JACQUES NOIR]

Hans Dieter, 'Morning Greeting'

Hard Cider NY, Raphael Diogo

Beautifully evocative of the Golden Apples of Idunn!

The lust so neatly packed into a boy's loins is truly a magical thing.

A nice moody woodland self-portrait of Marwane Pallas, showing of his young muscles and his impressively charming penis

The Candle Ritual

 [H/T: ultrawolvesunderthefullmoon]

Stained Glass

Wendla Soldan-Brofeldt, 'Fishermen with Net'

 

Lehnert, Tunisian

André Gide writes

There was nothing constrained here, nothing precipitate, nothing doubtful; there is no taste of ashes in the memory I keep. My joy was unbounded, and I cannot imagine it greater, even if love had been added. 

How could love have entered into this? How could I have left my heart at the mercy of desire? My pleasure was quite free from ulterior motives and was not to be succeeded by any remorse. But then what name can I give to the transports with which I crushed in my bare arms this perfect little body, wild, burning, sensual and mysterious? 

Long after Mohammed had left me I stayed there in a state of quivering jubilation, and although I had reached the summit of pleasure five times with him I revived my ecstasy many more times, and back in my hotel room I relived its echoes until morning.

[H/T: Greek Love - Pederasty Through the Ages - The initiation of André Gide]

Maciej Rauch, ‘Reaper’