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From that rainy day forward thoughts of Sensei dominated my mind, and I soon became infatuated with the awkward and aloof Shiba Inu. Suddenly, the image a man who I once thought of as nothing but cute and amusing became something of carnality, and though I found myself reluctant to proceed with it, I soon masturbated with images of Sensei nude and panting painted in my head, finding an incredible intensity to my resulting orgasms. Perhaps my sudden physical attraction to Sensei was psychosomatic, but I didn't think that made it any less real or visceral; lust has always been part and parcel of love in this society we live in, hasn't it?

Granted, my infatuation didn't extend simply to my sexual spectrum, no. I became very much interested in Sensei as a person as well. I found myself wanted to learn more about him, because in truth, there was very little I knew of Sensei; I knew that he was single, from Hokkaido prefecture, loved to travel, had a penchant for sight-seeing, but outside of that, there was still so much to learn. So in many hours of my day, especially those when I was in the presence of Sensei, I soon found myself wondering:

What are Sensei's hobbies? Does he drink or smoke? Where does he live? What sort of movies or Television shows does he watch? Does he have a preferred species? Does he like to dance?

These sorts of mundane questions became a daily occurrence for me. I didn't pay much mind to them; they were mostly innocent and curious. Until one day, just a week or two after our walk together, I thought of one question that brought me pause: Was he interested in me?

It was surprising to find myself asking if Sensei was interested in me, and not what his definitive sexuality was. Perhaps it was because my mind was too afraid to answer that question, but in the end that sexuality wasn't what was important. What really mattered was that in some way, he shared my feelings. Even if he was straight, all I wanted was for him to acknowledge my feelings in some way. Maybe a hug as well, a kiss, or a cuddle... With desires like those creeping into my heart, it wasn't long before I began to wonder if my infatuation was love.

Ah yes, love. That was the rub of all this, wasn't it? I promised myself that I would never date another soul until I was certain of love, and for five years I stuck to that with conviction. But somehow I realized that promise was just a false pretense, an excuse so that I would never search for love again because I was afraid of losing it, and the pain that would ensue. And yet, despite that I practically dismissed the possibility of love from my entire life, I always knew that I still craved it. It just took a walk in the rain for me to acknowledge that.

But how was I to come to terms with these newfound feelings? Realistically, there were too much social strata between Sensei and myself for us to be able to form any sort of meaningful relationship. He was a financially independent man, and I was still earning my degree. He was a full-fledged adult, and I was still just experiencing the base of adulthood. And perhaps most importantly, he was a teacher, and I was his student. All this, coupled with the high possibility that Sensei was altogether romantically uninterested in men, certainly sowed doubt into my heart. But if by the grace of whatever god may be out there, Sensei reciprocated feelings for me and we became a couple, and I ever found my love fading once more, I knew that I would never be able to forgive myself. But if I kept my feelings from Sensei, I knew I would drift away after graduation, that I would simply be remembered as his student, and would always wonder of what was left unsaid. I had hit an impossible quandary; I could follow my heart and risk harming it again, or I could watch it wither and crumble with disuse.

It was a dilemma that caused me much worry and heartache for many days. Some days I'd think I'd gathered the courage to confide in Sensei, only to soon dismiss the idea altogether. Other days I found myself wrapping my arms tightly against my pillow at night, pretending it was Sensei, and that it was his warm body I was wrapping my arms around. I would pretend that it was just him and me, embracing each other lovingly as we slept, our minds in sync. We would be already together, so there no need for a confession and no outside forces to hinder out relationship. It was a confusing couple of days, and not ones that I'm proud to admit, but they were short-lived; just as suddenly as my feelings for Sensei blossomed, I reached my answer of how to act upon them.

It happened during a conversation with Lauren, a person who played an interesting role in my life. She was simultaneously my best friend, my confidante, one of my roommates, and perhaps most unusually, my fuck buddy. To put it simply, our physical relationship was one of convenience; we found each other mutually attractive and pleasant to be around, so for those days where we wanted to get off without putting much effort into finding a consenting partner, we'd just fuck each other.

Admittedly, there were other women I found more appealing than Lauren, but there was no denying that she had a certain beauty to her. She was a black and white Border Collie, a bit tall for a woman and slightly overweight, but I found her pleasing well enough despite that. She had lovely facial features: a delicate nose, soft green eyes and prominent cheekbones, and her coat was so well-kempt that it felt almost like silk when I ran my paws through it. And naturally, her plump, pillowy breasts were my favorite feature. Her personality was pleasant enough.

I suppose because love was never a factor in our relationship that we were able to stay friends for so long. She seemed to have similar views in terms of a relationship between us; adding love to the equation would just make the sex too complicated. And considering we had it on a near daily basis, we were far too accustomed to it to even consider risking it. In fact, it was after one of our romps that realized how I wanted to come to terms with my feelings for Sensei.

We had just finished up, and having been distracted from the sex by thoughts of Sensei, I ended up tying Lauren by mistake. It's a bit peculiar; tying is generally posited to be the most visceral bonding experience imaginable for two lovers, an immaculate merging of body and soul that would redefine the lover's relationship entirely. But that wasn't the case for me and Lauren. No, for us, tying was just fucking annoying. So, after a few words of complaint from Lauren and a lukewarm apology from me, during the twenty minutes or so that we were stuck to each other, we surfed the internet on our phones and engaged in pleasant, albeit uncomfortably close, conversation.

Lauren was the one to stir up the conversation, and she did so from the same position that we had sex in: on top. "Something on your mind, King? You took a little longer than usual today." She spoke to me in her typically casual tone, disinterestedly texting some message or the other as did so.

I suppose I was too distracted to notice, but when I internalized the time it came to my attention that our session did last longer than what was usual. I didn't realize it immediately, but somehow my thoughts of Sensei must have mixed up my libido. I've come to understand that at one time I only ever care to think about men or women separately when I build sexual arousal (needless to say, I find myself poorly attracted to hermaphrodites, a shame). I don't know for sure why this is case, but it suited me well enough; these sorts of dichotomies seemed to be pervade my life anyhow.

"Oh, I guess, sorry..." I responded absentmindedly, reading some article about social inequalities in America on my phone, but not truly processing the meaning of the text.

"No, no, outside of your little mishap, the sex was better than usual. You actually lasted long enough to satisfy me," Lauren responded with a laugh, playfully kicking her legs back and forth up in the air. "But tell me, what's on your mind?"

At the time I wasn't prepared to answer her question; my crush on Sensei had simply been a personal matter to me, and the thought of admitting to it gave me pause. It took me a good few moments to decide if it was a thing I truly wanted to acknowledge, but in the end I knew I would have to come to terms with my feelings eventually. I licked my lips before I spoke up, barely muttering the answer. "I think I like somebody."

My little confession seemed to have taken her unawares. "You? Like somebody? You haven't liked anybody since Samantha, and that was five years ago!" Lauren was now grinning at me wickedly, curiosity in her gaze, with further built my unease.

"People change... and what we want changes too," I responded with a bleak sigh. Upon sighing, somehow I felt discontented, inadequate. "But that's not the issue; it's that the whole thing is just a hopeless case. They'd never agree to be with me..."

"Really? But you're so damn hot..." Laren said in a low rumble as she ran a paw down my defined chest and abdominals, sending a slight shiver down my spine. "Who wouldn't want some of this?"

Awkwardly in our close quarters, I grabbed Lauren's eager paw and guided it away from my belly. "It's not just about looks, Lauren... Ah hold on I think I can pull out now." Having felt my knot begin to retract, I slowly pulled my manhood out of Lauren's warm cunt, using both paws to guide the process, a slight popping noise coming out as the knot pulled out. I was glad to realize there were no tears in the condom when I had finished.

Lauren winced slightly after the first tug, but otherwise made no other reaction. "So tell me then, what is it about? It's probably more than just a little crush if it's having this much effect on you."

Before I spoke up next, my eyes averted to the fan, spinning around pointlessly. "Well... It's a guy I like." Though Lauren was well aware of my range of my interests, it still felt as though my stomach was tying itself in a knot when I spoke, as if I were acknowledging some sort of sin or crime to a court.

Her reaction was light-hearted enough, however. "Really? That's so cute; you've never liked a guy before!" I groaned in embarrassment at her response; her smile widened.

"And... he's one of my teachers."

This time she cocked her head curiously at me, her ears shot upward. "Really now? A teacher? How did that even happen?"

"I don't know, it just did... I know it's stupid, hell, I don't even know if he's into guys or not, but I can't help feel like, somehow, if it does work out, that this time it'll be different." I brought my paws to my face and slowly rubbed them down my muzzle and neck. "What should I do?"

She held a blank expression for a few moments, then rolled off me and got off the bed. She spent a few moments clothing herself before she answered. "I could tell you, but I don't think you'd like the answer."

"Just say it..."

She sighed. "You might want to let this one go, King. I know it's been so long since you've felt this way, but it's just not realistic to date one of your teachers; they could lose their job if they get caught dating a student, after all. And if they realize this, they'd be forced to reject you anyway; you might want to just save yourself the heartache now."

And then it hit me: rejection. Now that I thought about it, I was more likely to be rejected than not if I confessed to Sensei. But that wasn't necessarily a bad outcome; if I confessed my feelings to Sensei it would mean that I did all that I could to come to terms with them, but I wouldn't have to face the looming fear of another lost love. It was then that I decided that these feelings I had for my teacher were irrational, far too sudden, and unreasonable. I wanted, no, I needed to be rejected by Sensei to overcome these haunting emotions. I told Lauren that I'd let it go, which was partial truth. I made an effort not to bring the topic up with her again.

*

For the next few days, I juggled with the question of how to confess to Sensei. In theory, it was a simple task, but when I found myself attempting the act, my will would suddenly drain from my blood, and my body would become something foreign, something not under my control. Further adding to this problem was the lack of appropriate areas; class was far too public a place for a confession, as were the school's Japanese conversation tables. For a while I considered office hours, but I soon found the notion inappropriate and rejected it as well. I was desperate to act, but my fear and hesitation were shackling me to silence. I was so certain of my convictions, but the only certain thing of them was how they'd weaken as I'd see Sensei's charming face, and just put it off until another day. And that's what I did; forestall. Days of hesitation would turn to weeks, which then turned to months. Soon the semester ended, and I entered my final semester of Japanese Language with Sensei. And certain as day or night, I found myself incapable of acting. As the semester reached midterms, I was beginning to lose my nerve; I'd look myself in the mirror at night, slap myself around a few times, and call myself a coward. I stopped masturbating to Sensei because his face reminded me of my own weakness, and I temporarily lost interest in sex itself, and the idea of a naked body started to become something revolting to me. Lauren caught on to this fairly quickly. She made a few snide remarks about me 'being negligent of her needs', but otherwise didn't pressure me for sex, of which I was grateful. For a stretch of a few days I thought it be best to just bottle up my emotions until I forgot them, which I attempted and for a while thought I succeeded. Until then one night, when I was starting up at my ceiling in the dark, I found a tear rolling down my cheek, unbidden. Deep down I knew the tear came because of my cowardice, my inability to face my heart. It got me thinking; I was aiming for rejection, but a part of it still feared it, and that why was I couldn't act. As I angrily wiped the tear from my face-fur, I began to realize what a pathetic Pit Bull I really was.

Thankfully, however, a chance eventually presented itself to me.

Strange that it would be the memorial for a great tragedy that would prove to be the best setting to talk to Sensei. It was a two hour school hosted memorial and informative session of the March eleventh Touhoku earthquake, hosted by the college's Japanese Language program staff and held in a small assembly room on one of the campus' many multipurpose buildings. It was an event to which I volunteered, set-up and clean-up, and Sensei played a small role in the presentation: Sensei taught an upper-level translation course, and one of their recent projects was to translate Photovoices (photographs paired up with a poetic description) of the March eleventh tsunami's destructive wake, which were displayed for the some sixty audience members to view. The photos ranged from depictions of desolation and rubble to indoor photos of disaster-struck families grown fat from having little access to food other than cheap packaged noodles. The photos were enlarged to perhaps ten times the size of a typical Polaroid photo, held up on black stands that surrounded the few rows of audience seating that composed of foldup chairs.

Despite the somber thematic undertone, Sensei was his normal goofy self during the course of the presentation. Admittedly, there was a rather casual air to the presentation, and the takeaway message from the gathering was one of hope and perseverance, of a Japan that rises from disaster united and stronger than ever. But when it was Sensei's turn to present, his behavior came across as a bit carefree and disconnected, albeit in his own charmfully awkward way.

Sensei went on stage carrying a sample Photovoice, followed one of his students, a lithe Dalmatian girl and the one who translated the Photovoice presumably. Speaking in Japanese, Sensei gave a brief description of his translation course and Photovoices in general... and that was it. For a few moments Sensei just stood on the podium with his silly smile as if somebody was about to continue from where he left off. The Dalmatian look confused, as if she were waiting on Sensei for a cue that never came, and it wasn't long before the ensuing silence was broken by a few chuckles from the other Japanese teachers. The Japanese department director, an elderly little Cream Pomeranian, then asked Sensei from her audience seat with a humored lilt, "Yoshida-san_, could you please be a bit more descriptive? And speak in English as well so the non-Japanese speakers can understand?_"

Sensei looked as though he remembered something buried deep away in the recesses of his mind when he heard the suggestion. He smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head with a shy chuckle, "Ah, yes of course. So this is a Photovoice..."

His presentation of the Photovoices was sufficient from there on out, but the irony that a professor who taught a translation course forgot to translate his own little speech never escaped me. But of course, it wasn't until after the memorial was over that my chance to speak with Sensei presented itself. Once the audience chairs had been all folded and the Photovoices gathered, Sensei asked me to help bring the stands to the building's large janitorial closet where they had been taken.

We took away the stands without many words spoken between us. I was expecting that to be the case; after so many failed attempts I had practically given up on my confessions, but as it would turn out to be, as we placed the final two stands in the closet's stand rack, Sensei started the conversation for me, and the rest just fell into place.

"Thanks you for helping us out, Kingu-san_. My, you've been quite helpful lately, haven't you?_"

"Oh, it's nothing," I said unenthusiastically as we placed the final stands away in the storage closet. It was only then that I realized that this might have been my last possible scenario to confess to Sensei. Sensei still in the room, I awkwardly popped my head out into the hallway, finding that not a single other person was in earshot. Facing Sensei right before he made his way to return to the hallway, I scraped up what nerve I could and asked, "Sensei? There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about. In private if that's alright with you."

The nervousness I felt must have flowed to my face, because when Sensei looked at me with his cute beady eyes, I could see genuine concern on his face. My anxieties grew. "Oh dear, are you worried about your future again? If you are I'd be happy to listen to whatever you have to say. Here, let's shut the door for privacy."

I glanced uncertainly at Sensei as he closed the closet door, immediately correcting myself when I found my gaze drifting to his ass. "No, it's not that, exactly..."

When Sensei turned to address me, I met his gaze with scared frightful eyes, and he frowned slightly when he saw my discomfort, his delicate muzzle whiskers sagging. I wasn't sure if looking at Sensei was helping my anxieties, or making them worse, but I found myself gazing at him regardless. It was peculiar: a face that I once thought of as too round and plain now seemed to be the image of pure beauty, the visage of a god. Just how did my perception change so drastically?

I opened my muzzle to speak, but no words came out. It felt as though my lungs had been filled with spiders, spiders that crawled around my insides sucked out all the air I needed to speak. I felt nauseous and heavy, like I was about to retch up my lunch, but I knew I had to proceed. If the pain was this strong then I had to get it over with, get this all under the bridge. But in the end, I was unable to take the bull by the horns. What I did was more akin to pulling at its tail.

"Sensei... what do you do when you like somebody... romantically, but you don't think there's even a chance that you can be together with them?"

Sensei cocked his head as he contemplated the question, and folded his right ear downward. I found it endearing. "Well do they know you like them?"

I blushed at the question and averted my gaze. I swallowed what little saliva was in my dry mouth. "No..."

His answer was short and simple, but it made me feel acute shame. "Well, to start, I think you should tell them."

I felt my tail shift to the side nervously and the flush of my cheeks grow more intense. I spoke airily as a nervous heat racing though all corners of my body. "What if they get offended?"

Sensei's answer was once more simple and elegant, adorned with an affection pat to my shoulder. "Well, if they get offended over something as simple as you having feelings for them, then maybe they're not so great." At that moment, Sensei's eyes lit up with realization and curiosity, his triangular ears perking up eagerly. "You know, Kingu-san_, I won't ask you this person's identity, but if you could tell me about who they are, maybe I could give you more advice?"_

I panicked. Everything Sensei had said should have eased me in my confession, but somehow it just put more pressure on me, and I collapsed under it. "If I tell you about their position, there's a chance you might figure out who they are..."

I immediately realized the cowardice of my reply. Sensei had told me himself that romantic feelings should not beget offense, so there should be no reason for him to take offense should I have confessed. It was spontaneous, and I was grasping at straws, but there was one thing that popped to mind that might have been able to correct my mistake, and I spoke it before Sensei had time to respond. "But maybe if it were over drinks, I might tell you... maybe." I shuddered when the words escaped my muzzle. It was ridiculous: suggesting a teacher go drinking with his student? My sickly feeling grew more intense with the added embarrassment.

Sensei cleared his thought and then adjusted his tie, speaking with forced formality. "You're twenty-one, right?"

Sensei's response caught me off-guard, and when I realized the implication a quick laugh escaped from my muzzle. With just a few words, it was as if Sensei had taken all the negative emotions I had built up and changed their polarity. "Don't worry Sensei; I'm twenty-one."

Sensei then put his paws on his hips, rolling his eyes and pouting in feigned exasperation. "Oh, that's no fun... I've always wanted to buy drinks for a minor. Why do you have to be so old, Kingu-san?" I found myself in a full-on fit of chuckles at this point. Sensei grinned at me and then returned to his regular slightly slouched posture. I began to question why I was ever so reserved and hesitant with this man; if everything he said filled me with joy and happiness, why should I ever fear a few words between us? "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Though I might actually accept your offer to go drinking. I've never drank with a student before, but it sounds plenty fun. Perhaps you'd like to go sometime this weekend? We could talk more about your little crush then, if that's alright with you."

I found myself blushing again and besodden with embarrassment, but this time is what pleasant. Suddenly my fears and concerns of confessing had been wiped from my mind, filled with a childish excitement instead. "Really? I mean, yes of course! What time works for you? I'm free all day Saturday!"

"Saturday is fine for me as well. Say, eight o'clock? I can meet you at your apartment if that's fine."

"Yes, absolutely! I'm looking forward to it very much!"

"Same over here."

And with that, we left the closet, my volunteer work finished. I said my partings with Sensei with a completely unnecessary but very satisfying bow, walking home with a smile and wagging tail. I couldn't believe just how much I let my emotions control me like a puppet. And yet, somehow, with just a few words Sensei had undone all of that, taking the knotted mess of my emotions and neatly combing them until they were neat and ordely. Who knew? Maybe Sensei was meant for me; he certainly knew how to cheer me up. And even if he wasn't interested in me, of course we could still be friends. He already managed to do so much for me as nothing more than a friend, and I found comfort in that.

When I got home I apologized to Lauren for being so negligent of her needs and fucked her extra hard that night, cuming a total of four times. I could hardly believe just how pent up I was.