Pokemon: The Scientist’s Rebirth

Ethan lounged on his bed, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. The events of the past few hours replayed in his mind with crystalline clarity. The image of Delia, bathed in the warm glow of the bedside lamp, her body arching and twisting in the throes of self-pleasure, was particularly vivid. He could still hear the soft moans escaping her lips, the subtle shifts in her breathing as she approached her peak.

It was a scene he had fantasized about since the moment he first laid eyes on her. Never in a million years did he expect to witness such a private moment so soon. From the very beginning, he had been captivated by Delia's mature beauty, her full figure and the warmth that radiated from her smile.

He had envisioned her squirming beneath him, her cries of pleasure echoing through the room, a conquest he had fully intended to achieve. While he hadn't yet physically possessed her, today marked a significant milestone, the first major step towards his ultimate goal of getting into her pants.

His consistent efforts at flirting with Delia for over the past two years had been met with gentle amusement, a dismissive pat on the head, or a playful remark about his youth. She saw him as a child, a harmless little boy with a burgeoning crush.

Today, he got a chance to irrevocably shattered that image. He had been presented with a golden opportunity, a chance encounter that could drastically alter the course of their relationship. When he first peered into her room and witnessed her self-pleasuring, a surge of adrenaline coursed through him. He immediately recognized the need to delicately handle the situation.

Simply leaving unnoticed, slipping away as if he had never been there, would have been a colossal waste. It was a divine opportunity, a gift from the heavens, and to squander it would have been an act of utter foolishness. He briefly considered interrupting her abruptly, bursting into the room and confronting her directly. However, he quickly dismissed this idea. It would have been too jarring, too confrontational, likely triggering a defensive reaction and causing her to recoil from him in embarrassment. The thought of her avoiding him, building walls to protect herself from his gaze, was unacceptable.

Another option was to continue peeking, observing her until she inevitably noticed him, then feigning surprise and fleeing in a display of feigned embarrassment. This, too, was deemed inadequate. While it might have introduced a degree of awkwardness into their interactions, it wouldn't have achieved his primary objective: to shift her perception of him. It would have painted him as a voyeur, a peeping Tom, rather than a man capable of evoking passion within her.

The most effective course of action, he concluded, was to join her in her embarrassment, to create a shared moment of vulnerability that would level the playing field. By being purposefully discovered while pleasuring himself to the sight of her own self-gratification, he neutralized the potential for her to become excessively critical. She couldn't very well reprimand him for an act she was simultaneously engaged in.

The shared vulnerability created a strange kind of intimacy, a mutual understanding that transcended the usual boundaries of their relationship. It forced her to confront him, to address the situation directly, exactly as she had done. But the fact that she was equally implicated in the "transgression" prevented her from adopting a purely accusatory stance. It was a delicate dance of exposure and strategic vulnerability, a calculated risk that he was confident would pay off handsomely.

The timing of his "interruption" was paramount. It wasn't enough to simply be seen; he needed to be seen at the precise moment that would maximize the psychological impact on Delia. He had observed her carefully, noting the subtle changes in her breathing, the increasing tension in her body, the way her hips began to rock with more urgency. He waited until she was on the verge of climax, her senses heightened, her mind focused solely on the escalating sensations coursing through her body. It was at this crucial juncture, as she gasped and her body began to tremble, that he made his move.

By revealing himself at this peak moment, he ensured that her mind was completely absorbed in the experience, her senses heightened, her focus narrowed. Her eyes, already half-closed in a haze of pleasure, snapped open as she registered his presence. The sight that greeted her was carefully calculated: his own body, in a state of heightened arousal, his hand moving rhythmically, his expression one of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

The image of him, at the moment of his own release, the last shuddering pulses of pleasure rippling through him, the final droplets of semen expelled from his exposed penis, would be indelibly imprinted on her mind. It was a visceral, unforgettable image, one that he was confident would resurface whenever she sought similar pleasure in the future.

He understood the power of association, a psychological principle he had extensively studied in his previous life. He knew that the brain often links seemingly disparate experiences together, creating powerful emotional connections. By linking his own image, his own moment of ecstasy, with her peak experience of pleasure, he was effectively hijacking her subconscious.

He reasoned that anytime she tried to masturbate again, even if she consciously tried to push the memory away, her mind would automatically replay the scene of him, his face contorted in pleasure, his body releasing its pent-up tension. Every time she approached orgasm, she would subconsciously think of him, associating him with the intense sensations she was experiencing. This was not mere speculation; it was a calculated prediction based on his deep understanding of human psychology.

Furthermore, he had taken the extra precaution of leaving tangible evidence of his climax. The small stains on her door and the floor, the physical remnants of his arousal, were not accidental; they were strategically placed reminders of the encounter. He knew that she would be forced to clean them up, to confront the physical evidence of his arousal in close proximity if she wanted to leave the room. This act of cleaning, of physically interacting with the remnants of his climax, would force her to relive the scene again, further reinforcing the association between him and her own arousal. It was a subtle but powerful form of psychological manipulation.

While he couldn't generalize about the specific desires of all middle-aged women, he was aware of a general trend: many found the attention and admiration of younger men flattering, even arousing. It was a validation of their own attractiveness, a confirmation that they were still desirable. This was another factor working in his favor.

However, the biggest obstacle remained: breaking down her ingrained maternal instinct. She saw him as a child, a boy she had taken under her wing and had to look after like her own son Ash. This protective, nurturing instinct was a significant barrier to overcome. But he believed that today's incident, if it hadn't completely shattered that perception, had at least created a significant crack in it.

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"Happy New Year! May this year bring you endless joy, inspiration, and thrilling adventures in both fiction and life.

Sorry for the delay in posting the Chapter got caught up with new year Celebration