There is nothing more intimate than feeling your orgasm on my chest — your warmth trickling down my skin, and every inch of my flesh remembering this moment. I want you to watch as your seed slowly drips down my nipples, leaving a trail that I will touch with my fingers long after you've left. When you come on me, I feel marked, claimed in the most ancient way. I don't wash it off immediately — I let it dry on my skin, so the scent and warmth stay with me as I walk the streets of Bangkok, smiling at my secret. You leave a piece of yourself on me, and I accept it as a gift, as a promise, as proof that you were here, that you wanted me, that you came for me. With me, you don't just come — you leave your name on my chest. And I will wear it with pride until it fades, and even when it does — it will remain in my soul.