Silent lamb.

She was so quiet and subdued as a silent lamb, she was disguised in a closed space, her big hands slowly, but with no objection, tearing her clothes apart, displaying already hot skins and standing nipples, quenching low by her deliberate pressure, her body in the hands of the other, shaky, wet-hot mouth, squeezing, perving, each bumping away from invisibility to out of control, and her honey flowing through the confluence, and she was finally squeezing out, sending a broken groan, completely reduced to a conquered prey, and quiet was no more than the next time she was shot to the sprawl.