My (now ex-) wife and I used to visit her sister Kathy quite regularly. If either her son or daughter's bedroom was available, she and her hubby would let us have their bedroom and sleep in one of the kid's rooms. Such was the case on this particularly memorable visit.
I knew she and her hubby were into porn, as he invited me to check out some of the video collection in the TV cabinet in their bedroom. After everyone left the house to go shopping, I did briefly sample some of the vids, and they were very hard-core, indeed.
I took a shower in the master bath that was a part of their bedroom and looked around for the blow dryer. I knew it had to be somewhere close around, as I'd heard it blowing that morning when my SIL was in there getting ready.
I found it in the cabinet beneath the bathroom sink. I pulled it out, but the cord was caught in something, so I dug down through all the junk to dislodge it. Hmmm. There in the bottom of the dark cabinet was a 1st-aid kit.
It was just like the one at my dad's work I'd seen many years before, a rather large old-fashioned white enameled metal box with a big green cross on it and toolbox-style closures. Both because I thought the box interesting and my face was bleeding from a razor cut, I opened it.
Although it had a few odds and ends of old 1st-aid supplies, it mainly contained videotape cassettes, all labeled, appropriately, with white adhesive bandage tape: Kathy XXX. Well, well, well!
Still alone in their house, I popped the top cassette, which was right in the middle of the tape, into the VCR there in the bedroom. Both screaming like harpies and cussing like drunken sailors, hubby was butt-fucking her violently and spanking her ass real hard as she fast-fucked her mushrooming pussy with a miniature souvenir baseball bat.
It was a wooden bat, a Louisville Slugger, no newfangled aluminum bat. I admired her traditionalism. There, placed neatly on top of the dresser next to a baseball covered with Atlanta Braves' autographs, was the same bat. How convenient. I picked it up and took a whiff. It smelled faintly of pussy, and I noticed it was signed by none other than Hank Aaron. Noting that he is the home-run-king, I could not help but laugh out loud, figuring she'd probably fucked herself with it as many times as he'd hit homers
Interestingly, I was standing in the bedroom almost exactly in the same place that she and her hubby were on the tape, and the camera was in plain view on a tall tripod aimed so that it would capture them directly as well as reflected in the mirrored east wall, giving a near all-around view of the "action heroes," the rest of the room, and the bottle of tequila and lemons by the sink in the background.
The room as it appeared on the tape was exactly as it was while I viewed it. In anticipation of our visit, they had just re-arranged the room furnishings for us so our baby could sleep in there with us. So I knew that they had made that tape at most only a few days before our arrival.