Freedom of Self

Chapter 1

It was hot. As soon as Arata slid open the door leading to the narrow balcony of his one-bedroom apartment, a dry gust of wind hit his face. His dark silky locks swayed against the black rims of his glasses. The young man inhaled deeply, placing his hands on the rail. The heat radiating off the asphalt, several stories below, immediately reached him. He ignored the discomfort, having already grown accustomed to Tokyo's scorching summer nights.

His apartment was relatively small to begin with, so the simple pieces of furniture he had took up most of the space. There was a single bed with a nightstand, a kitchenette on the opposite wall, a large table in front of the window, where he always studied and ate, and two bookshelves squeezed together next to the table for quick access. He kept his clothes and laundry in a tall dresser placed in one of the corners and stored the pairs of shoes he didn't use in a plastic box next to the dresser.

Arata Wakahisa, a 20-year-old Biological Sciences major, had never thought that there would come a day when he would become dissatisfied with such a modest lifestyle. He had always been told that he was as plain as they came. Average-looking. Ordinary. Dull. Arata had never taken such words as insults.

Few were the things he showed any particular preference or desire for. His reactions had never been dramatic nor had he ever done anything adventurous or insensible. Indeed, Arata was what one would call common and predictable.

And yet, somehow, he now achingly felt like an essential part of him was waiting to be fulfilled. His lower part softly twitched in his underwear, straining painfully against the fabric, and he gritted his teeth as that sweet frustration threatened to overcome him.

The walls are too thin!, he thought, squeezing his thighs together, only to cause more friction. He whimpered lowly and rubbed his face, trying to erase the sensation from his body.

Every other evening, he could clearly hear his next-door neighbor having sex and even though he had repeatedly tried to discipline his body, the lustful sounds coming from the other side of the wall always managed to arouse him in the most perverted of ways.

Arata was too shy to knock loudly on the wall separating their apartments in hopes that the energetic couple would tone it down. He could not mention his dilemma to his neighbor either, already blushing at the mortifying idea of explaining the problem. The young man had no other choice but to endure his current situation until he managed to muster up the courage and do something about the issue.

"Aaagh!...Nghh!"

Suddenly, a woman's cry of pleasure and some muffled groans reached his ears and Arata involuntarily blushed a darker shade of red, his lips squeezing together as if to mimic the tight sensation between his legs.

"Are they done now?" the young man muttered to himself, going back to his room, turning off the lights and collapsing onto the bed. The mattress sunk with his weight and the sheets felt stifling and hoarse against his skin.

He cringed with guilt as the tips of his fingers pushed at the elastic band of his shorts to take them off. Arata lifted his hips slightly, the fabric sliding along his smooth skin to rest at his ankles. His moistened erection was freed and he tentatively reached out to grip the base. A soft moan threatened to escape him, so Arata quickly brought the other hand to his mouth, covering it.

Gently, he started pressing against the shaft, massaging it in small, circular motions. When he reached the tip, which was slowly starting to leak a clear, slick liquid, the young man squeezed his eyes shut from the embarrassment he brought upon himself and smeared the precome all over his erection. After hesitating a little, Arata's breathing turned a bit more laborious as he started stroking his pale, hardened flesh.