"Sonya opened to the poem in the book and followed along with the man'srecitation. His spoken words sparked through her body like somethinginside her was coming to life. He got almost every line right, thoughmissed a few toward the end. But most importantly, he got the last lineright.When he finished she looked up at him and he was smiling."Not too bad, right?" he said.Sonya grinned. Words wouldn't come for a moment as she looked into hiseyes, and she noticed that she felt wet between her legs. On instinct shelooked down at his hands and saw that his fingers were bare of any rings."Not bad," she said. She pointed at the shelves. "So, who else might Ilike? I'm looking for something new."Sonya and the man, whose name she learned was Jeremy, spent over an hourdiscussing poets and places where he liked to hear live readings. Hementioned that he was an aspiring poet, though he hadn't publishedanything yet. Sonya said that she would love to read his work sometime,if he would read it for. That has not taken long. My wife had obviously been turned on a lot by the situation. My cock was also rock hard and trying to burst out of my trousers. I lent over to my wife and whispered “I am going to have to go and wank my self off in the toilet.” My wife looked disappointed. She really wanted to wank me off. After a short hushed debate we decided to swap seats to make it less obvious. With me now by the window my wife turned towards me and unzipped my flies. I pulled my briefs down enough to get my swollen and hard cock out. My wife started to wank it. It was not good! I quickly whispered to her, “Stop, there too much friction”. She halted and waited as I lubricated my cock with as much spit as I could produce. My wife restarted the hand-job. It instantly felt much better than before. I was trying to relax while keeping an eye out for any one that may see what was going on. I was finding it a little difficult but luckily most people were asleep, those that were not were.
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