Hank closed his eyes and put some oomph into his thrusts. Sundry kisses on Danielle's cheek were the only affection Hank offered as his meager grunt grew louder and louder. The depth and force of his penetrations might have been pleasing if they had lasted more than twenty seconds. The vocal whimper that left Hank's lips accompanied the minor warmth Danielle felt inside her womb from his pathetic trickle. The man felt little more than sweaty and heavy then, having expelled his seed and (with it) the last reason to uphold the facade of attention. Hank knew that Danielle might have wanted more, but there was just so much to do -- packing for the trip, logging onto the airline website to get his tickets confirmed, find those old hiking shoes. Dinner would have been a nice touch before leaving, but there was a possibility that the partnering CFO might call him and want to talk shop; it would be a shame to let such an important person down.<br/><br/>Sliding up and away from Danielle, Hank retreated without a word, only offering a single kiss on her luscious lips. He lifted Danielle's leg up to pull the towel off the bed -- the one he normally placed beneath her to absorb whatever wetness she leaked. A pleased grin lifted his expression when he found that no mess had been made, as if less flow meant less work. Hank tossed the towel in the dirty laundry and proceeded to the bathroom, where he would wash his cock clean of any lingering trace of Danielle's sex. The sound of tap water running and the sloshing of soap had become a consistent, post-coital ritual. Retaining any hint of Danielle's vaginal perfume would be horribly ... unprofessional. Hank shook himself at the thought -- the prospect -- of someone in his organization catching a whiff of the lewd, sultry scent. No, washing was the proper thing to do, as was showering and always presenting oneself as neat and tailored as possible. Shirts were soon folded and placed in immaculate piles in his armored suitcase. Traveling to the far reaches of oil-producing regions meant enduring the worst that baggage handling had to offer. Manhandling anything was just wrong -- every possible thing needed to be dealt with in a deliberate, logical fashion. Such care had served the engineer throughout his life and had brought him to where he stood just then.<br/><br/>A nagging voice poked at Hank's conscious, that he should be spending more time with the woman whom he had just deposited his cum. Surely she deserved at much attention as those folded shirts? Hank smiled in effacement -- guilt from the extended trip must have been eating at him. Danielle, if anyone, could appreciate Hank's ethos of diligence and conscientious application. Such understanding is what came with matrimony, right? Hank knew that he wasn't exciting, but what more could a woman want than every creature comfort available? And, Hank made it his mission to provide for the gorgeous woman who would be the mother of his children. At least, that was the plan. Hank detected a touch of reticence whenever children were mentioned as a future possibility, though he simply chalked it up to nervousness. And then, suitcases in hand, Hank sought out his lovely wife for a final good-bye. He found her and kissed her lips quickly, the gesture followed by a warm hug.<br/><br/>"It's time for me to depart, dear. I love you ... maybe next time we can talk about you getting off the pill?"