A healthy young man

You feel almost to get up, knowing that this will be the last time that you'll wake up in your own bed. As you lie there, trying to decide what to do with what you now realize will be your last few hours in your childhood home, you notice a light from the house next door cutting through the pre-dawn dimness.

Green must be having the same problem you are. You've known your next-door neighbor since her family moved to Pallet Town when you were in elementary school, and have been best friends with her for almost as long. She's graduating from the League Preparatory Program with you today, also in the top three.

She hadn't shown the same interest in pokémon that you had when the two of you were younger, but signed up for the extra prep classes in middle school anyway, so she could keep hanging out with you. Quickly though, Green had come to love pokémon in her own way.

While you were intent on battling and winning the League, she was far more interested in studying pokémon and raising them. Over the past seven years, the two of you have helped each other shore up your weaknesses—you coaching her in battling and her tutoring you in theory. It's safe to say that neither of you would be receiving a pokémon from Professor Oak today without the other's support.

Rolling over onto your side, you open your window and reach across the small gap between your house and Green's to tap on her window. Her room being across from yours has allowed for a lot of great late night conversations, and you figure talking to her might help ease the restlessness you're feeling. As you lean closer however, you freeze at what you see, almost losing your balance and falling out of your window.

Green is laying back on her bed, face flushed and eyes firmly shut, her long light-brown hair splayed beneath her. She's wearing only a thin oversized sleepshirt, which has been pushed half-way up her smooth stomach. The raised shirt allows you to clearly see the vigorous motions of her right hand, as well as catch brief glimpses of pink between her raised legs.

You've had lectures in health classes and even looked at a few dirty magazines, but you've never actually seen a woman doing anything like that in person, much less your best friend. You've always been too busy with training for that kind of thing. You feel a bit guilty watching your best friend without her knowing, but also feel a distinct pressure against your crotch as your growing erection presses up against your boxers.