Head lovers

Wonderful feeling. I appreciate good gifts.
 
Like a little girl who received a doll, one she had pined for, I would hold the head tight in my arms, caressing it. I would run my hands over the face, familiarizing myself with every feature, its nose, eyes, lips, teeth, ears. I assume my benefactor would have cleaned it up before wrapping, but if not, I would lick the entire head, removing any dried blood still remaining from its decapitation. I would gently run my fingers over the severed neck, touching dried blood vessels, ligaments, spine, and push my tongue into the open throat. I would sleep with my gift and keep it with me all day, caressing and kissing and licking. Even biting. As the days after Christmas stretched into the new year, parts of the head would begin to decompose. Not willing to part with my treasure, I would chew and swallow the putrefying flesh. Day by day, parts of it would slide off the skull and down my throat. In time, too soon, too soon, every bit of my gift would have been devoured, leaving only a white skull. This would sit by my bed, to be caressed every night, and cuddled in my sleep.

I would approach my benefactor, drop to my knees, and offer my thanks and my body. My gift to him.
 
Like a little girl who received a doll, one she had pined for, I would hold the head tight in my arms, caressing it. I would run my hands over the face, familiarizing myself with every feature, its nose, eyes, lips, teeth, ears. I assume my benefactor would have cleaned it up before wrapping, but if not, I would lick the entire head, removing any dried blood still remaining from its decapitation. I would gently run my fingers over the severed neck, touching dried blood vessels, ligaments, spine, and push my tongue into the open throat. I would sleep with my gift and keep it with me all day, caressing and kissing and licking. Even biting. As the days after Christmas stretched into the new year, parts of the head would begin to decompose. Not willing to part with my treasure, I would chew and swallow the putrefying flesh. Day by day, parts of it would slide off the skull and down my throat. In time, too soon, too soon, every bit of my gift would have been devoured, leaving only a white skull. This would sit by my bed, to be caressed every night, and cuddled in my sleep.

I would approach my benefactor, drop to my knees, and offer my thanks and my body. My gift to him.
How would you make love to him? Tell me how.
 
Like a little girl who received a doll, one she had pined for, I would hold the head tight in my arms, caressing it. I would run my hands over the face, familiarizing myself with every feature, its nose, eyes, lips, teeth, ears. I assume my benefactor would have cleaned it up before wrapping, but if not, I would lick the entire head, removing any dried blood still remaining from its decapitation. I would gently run my fingers over the severed neck, touching dried blood vessels, ligaments, spine, and push my tongue into the open throat. I would sleep with my gift and keep it with me all day, caressing and kissing and licking. Even biting. As the days after Christmas stretched into the new year, parts of the head would begin to decompose. Not willing to part with my treasure, I would chew and swallow the putrefying flesh. Day by day, parts of it would slide off the skull and down my throat. In time, too soon, too soon, every bit of my gift would have been devoured, leaving only a white skull. This would sit by my bed, to be caressed every night, and cuddled in my sleep.

I would approach my benefactor, drop to my knees, and offer my thanks and my body. My gift to him.
I'd like to give you my head
 
I too would love for you to receive my severed head as a holiday gift, so you can make love to it and devour it as you so eloquently described.
 
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