19/12/2024 00:35:03 by anonymous

When I was 7, my Dad and I took the train (the very very old not-at-all-posh Orient Express) from London to Istanbul. 3 nights on the train there & 3 nights back. On the way out, going through Belgrade and south on the way to Bulgaria, it became night – through the Dragoman Pass. We were in a compartment with 4 heavily moustachioed, swarthy Slavs. The seats in this compartment just pulled out to join up. In other words, just making one big bed. As I tried to sleep that night, trying to realise quite where I was, I had male socked feet everywhere I looked – including my father’s. It didn’t take much for me to crane my neck a bit and have my nose within a hair’s breadth of the scented fabric of at least 3 of these men at a time. I was hooked 100%. Talk about an awakening. If I actually slept that night (& I probably did) I nodded off looking at the soles of these strangers, the warmth from their socked soles sending my young mind into a most wonderful turmoil. It was absolutely bloody amazing.