To say that Ava has an actively imaginative sex life would be a gross understatement. Late at night, all alone, she types away at her computer, relishing in impossible pleasures that only her depraved mind can deliver. Ecstasy becomes her as she lives out the most fiendish fantasies, furiously typing away. Her fingers can’t keep up with her mischievousness, her devilish glee. The more aroused she becomes the more unhinged her fantasies are. Nothing is off-limits for her: elves, monsters, demons. The stranger, the better and she loves it all.
Tonight, she’s feeling particularly subservient and roguish, ready for some medieval-fantasy and abuse at the hands of two brutes. She wants her small-framed body to be pushed to its limits and to be transformed by the hands of evil. Over the years, she’s built up incredible stamina from her nightly ritual, orgasming until she loses consciousness, able to do it again and again. She’s a beast. She’s a poet. She’s an unstoppable force of creativity. She is the Midnight Writer.