I’m not saying that they could be mistaken for twins, and if you put them side by side, you could tell that they were two different women, but still, the resemblance was there.
They also had the same shoulder length blonde hair with dark roots, and same body type. Both had large tits, womanly hips, and a nice ass, though Jodi’s was getting a little flat from age.
It might sound strange that I noticed, but they both had freckles on their arms, and across their chests. So whenever I saw the splash of freckles across my mother’s cleavage, I thought of Jodi West, and when I was watching a porn video and saw that same splash of freckles across Jodi West’s tits, I thought of my mom.
Once, when I was in the hallway at school, and I was approaching a woman from behind, I said to myself, “Oh my God, it’s Jodi West.” Imagine my surprise when the woman turned around and it was my mother who had gotten off work early to pick me up.
I looked up from watching the porn video to glance at a picture that was above my desk. It was an innocent enough picture of my family posing on the beach during a family vacation. My older sister and father on one side, and my mom and me, arm in arm, on the other.
The picture was taken back in better times, before my father lost his middle management job. He found another soon after, but not for nearly the same pay. We never go on expensive trips like that anymore.
At the time when I posted the picture on my wall, I was only twelve years old, and I honestly hung it up innocently, but you see, that was when my mother still wore bikinis, and upon seeing it on my wall for the first time, my mother commented that maybe it wasn’t the best picture to put up in my bedroom.
“I look fat,” she used as an excuse.
What she was trying to say was that maybe it wasn’t the most appropriate picture, but being slow on the uptake, I kept it. She looked fine I thought. Now, though it causes a strange conflict in me, I’m glad I left it on my wall. She looked amazing in that little navy blue bikini, her tits busting out of her bra. The picture, as the saying goes, was one of my guilty pleasures.
Many a time, mostly after watching some Jodie West porn, I would take that picture to bed, fantasizing about how my mom would look naked, and jacking off to those images in my head. Afterwards, I felt guilty and dirty about my incestuous fantasies, but that didn’t stop me from doing it all over again after I watched yet another Jodi West video.
My gaze reluctantly shifted from my mother in a bikini to my alarm clock. It was twenty-eight minutes after midnight, not normally late for an eighteen year old to be up on a Friday night, but my 7:45 wake up call loomed ominously over my head like Damocles’ Sword.
All of the vexation that I had been trying to escape by watching porn came rushing back like a tidal wave. You see, I was scheduled to pitch the next morning for my high school baseball team, and it was a playoff game.
All the worries: don’t give their number four batter, Rodriguez, anything over the plate or he’ll go yard. All of the strategy: how should I pitch to a lefty with a man on first? And all of the regret; my last performance wasn’t up to par, and when I left the game, it was tied in the sixth.