Misty Stone's lithe body is as wiry tense as a banjo string ready for some Kentucky Bluegrass. So it stands to reason that once Misty Stone sets her ol' bad self on a gent's apple bag her body stiffens and goes into a near-religious frenzy as though she were sitting on an electric chair Sunday Morning with them minstrels strummin' some appropriate background tune. This woman can feel every note of sex coursing through her body like a burst of white light and her feelings about cock run just about equal. Put one in her mouth and Misty chows down like some soup kitchen derelict. Love her madly but don't piss her off. Women like that will cut your nuts off.