Nothing More To Say

I have lost all words.
My previous illustrations of every magnificently sensual technique I know to make you scream in orgasmic delight, gone.
How can I compare language to action, speech to exploit, descriptions that hold no candle to reality.
You are a breath of fresh air, no better yet a world to myself, filling my lungs without needing to breathe.
Images of you fuck my mind causing mental ejaculation, clearing my thoughts, calming the constant dialogue.
How can I possibly write of you knowing my words won't do justice?
You can only be truly appreciated in the flesh, with lips to lips, finger tips to finger tips, cock to cradle.
I want to write about you, to you, for you, but when I sit back thinking of you and what to say, my mind becomes a blank canvas, awaiting your fragile brush to stroke new images.
Simply let me hold you, lay with you, rest inside you, pulsate from within you, and allow our actions to speak louder than words could ever do.