Mutiny, in slinky red dress, black heels and glasses, looks the seductive schoolgirl ingnue. But within lurks the heart and soul of an, as in French she talks about her thighs, caressing them - ready to feed them. And she does, asking her doltish victim as he approaches, "Are you sure you are ready for those legs?" No one could be, and Mutiny's hungry thighs devour him in the first of many cranium-cracking scissors, his fat head lost in the majestic meat of her thighs, a slow squeeze resulting in a quick tap. The French isnt done by a long shot, devouring his head from behind, laying thunderin... Show more