Whilst the Dryads, as a race, were created by a woman who definitely had more than a few screws loose and<i>hated</i>men with a psychopathic passion, it was the first few she converted who shaped the culture all others came into, and they, more than not, loved the male<i>form</i>but discounted the squishy gray stuff between its ears as being prone to hateful thinking. That led to the early generations of Dryads seducing men through a pheremonal cocktail which turned them into, essentially, mindless living sex toys.<br/><br/>Thirty years and many generations later and the Dryad's innate need to ensure the comfort and good-thoughts of their human companions now extended to men, their abilities, the emotions driving their use, and their related cultural mores remained.<br/><br/><i>Don't waste a drop</i>. Nessa took several spurt's worth at a time, savoring each mouthful with her tongue before dutifully swallowing it, the four words front and center in her mind as her body reflexively orgasmed from just the taste of his seed.<br/>On the one hand, it could be said she did this for her own pleasure. Which she did, savoring every drop as it spurted into her mouth.<br/><br/>As the orgasm abated and his grip relaxed, the happy sigh escaping his lips, she knew she'd done something more: relaxed<i>him.</i>Which, in this case was a good thing for the both of them.<br/><br/>Despite the familiar euphoric afterglow, his cock remained rock hard as she slurped up the last of the seed and licked her lips with a satisfied grin. She looked down at him. "Relaxed?" she asked. Her voice was sultry, aroused, but content at the same time.