slashsmut single colleen beecher keller


by Colleen

In college I learned about Zeno, the Greek philosopher who founded, so to speak, the dialectical school of thought. He taught that one's senses were illusory, that reality was way beyond subjective, it was, well... actually not reality at all.

In prison I have come to conclude that he was pretty much right. Nothing is how we perceive it, cos when you apply logic to what you see, hear, FEEL... these things are impossible. These things can not exist.

Reality is not.

On the other hand, Jesus fuck... telling myself 'this isn't real, this is not happening' did not save me from being smashed to pieces on every level possible, physical, emotional, spiritual, and Zeno's favourite, meta-fucking-physical. PHILOSOPHY did not get the dick out of my ass or the knife out of my side.

Denial of reality, is, after all, an attempt at escaping from that which is too close, too present.

Too real.

Who or what, I wonder, was Zeno denying?

At this particular moment, I am pretty happy with reality. Scratch that. I am content. Happy is not real, happy is not something I expect to see ever again. 'Content' implies a simple acceptance of a situation, and that further extends to the given: any situation can deteriorate. The current situation?

Well, I'm getting my cock sucked, that would be the current situation. I'm making soft little pleasure sounds, and my eyes are closed, and it's really really good. And if he knew I was thinking about ancient Greek philosophy, he'd probably suck a little harder, try to push me into that space of non-thought, that, 'Jesus Christ this feels so good the universe is imploding' space.

He's already gotten me non-verbal, but I confess, Chris gets me non-verbal just by looking at me. So in truth, that's not specifically an ACCOMPLISHMENT...

Denying reality again, here: it DOES feel that good, so sweet, his mouth, his tongue, the wetness, the heat. His hands on my hips, thumbs brushing back and forth softly, over-sensitizing those spots. I've already come once tonight, so he can take all the time he likes. I will get there, and nobody has EVER been able to get me there like HE can, but the point is, I've got time to think.

To philosophize.

Zeno's paradoxes are famous in logic and physics, he'd take a given perception such as distance, I am five paces from you, and then fuck it up. I am five paces from you, BUT that distance in space can be infinitely bisected, infinitely reduced by half. Therefore, I cannot close that distance between us, no matter how fast I move, no matter how short I perceive that distance to be.

My Philosophy 424 professor disproved the Distance Paradox by throwing a chalkboard eraser and hitting someone in the head with it. Seemed simple at the time.

Chris' hands are sliding around to all kinds of nice little places, making me gasp, making me moan, ripping the fabric of my higher brain function. Maybe he DOES know I don't, mm, have my mind on the task. Speaking of metaphysics, he gets deep inside my head, and again, it's like no-one ever.

He gets deep inside me like no-one ever. Cos I let him. I never allowed it before... Before what? Pick a point in space and time, call that 'then'. Reality is ever-present, whoa, now I'm sliding into existentialism here, don't let Kierkegaard ruin what is shaping up to a damned fabulous orgasm...

You can't really explain to anyone what this feels like. That is not to say that they might not relate, it's just, coming in the mouth of someone you love is a beyond-words sort of experience. There's no complete way to describe it. Chris trails his tongue up my chest, up my throat, to my mouth for a salty-sweet kiss.

Nice. Nerve endings are still tingling, and he knows better, now, than to disturb me before I'm goddam well good and ready. Nice having the upper hand in something, at fucking last.

I lift my hand, not quite touching the top of his head as he rests on my shoulder. Heat radiates off him, like always. I really do love him, and I've 98 percent sure he really loves me.

Okay, 88 percent.

I have Zeno's paradox passed out on my chest. No matter how much we DO love each other, no matter what we sense and perceive... no matter how close we get, there will remain infinite distance between us.

con't in Everything I Say is a Lie

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