Yurt retreat has me stripping bare and needy

The tarot cards on the low table predicted passion tonight, but out here in this secluded yurt under the vast sky, I can't wait any longer. Alone with the flickering candlelight and steaming tea forgotten, I peel off my top, letting my full breasts spill free, nipples hardening in the cool air. My white lace panties cling to my hips, the bow teasing as I stand there, one hand tracing slow circles on my thigh, feeling the heat build between my legs. I need it so bad, this ache that's been simmering all day on my retreat. My fingers itch to slip under the lace, to rub my dripping pussy until I gasp and cum, my body arching against the woven walls. The why now hits me—solitude strips away everything but this raw hunger, making me own every needy moan escaping my lips.