I was desperate to get a job as a personal trainer. All through high school and college, that's all I wanted to do. An odd career goal, I suppose, but I knew that's what would make me happy. So when I finally landed an interview at a small gym in my home town, I was not about to pass up the opportunity. I was determined to win the manager over and get this job. No matter what it took.
I finally landed an interview and was super excited cause it was my first full time job. A full time job as a personal trainer, no less! I got my certification only two months ago, and for years I've been giving advice and tips to my friends, but never got paid for it. This was my dream come true.
Max, the owner, asked me to come by around 11 am on Monday. After weeks of badgering him and begging him he finally relented and told me I could interview. He warned me though, he was going to put me through the ringer. He was going to give me the worst of it and force me to prove I deserved the job. I thought he was kidding, but good lord, I was wrong.
Part of the interview would consist of the standard 1-on-1/Q&A interview session, the other part would be a mock routine/training session so he could get a better idea of my knowledge base. Lastly, if I succeeded in both parts I would move on to a physical with the on-call physician.
Apparently all trainers had to endure a physical with him once a year.
I'm dressed in my standard workout attire, like I always do - t-shirt, track shorts and ankle socks, skipping the underwear since I'm not a big of fan of being so constrained.
I get to the gym a few minutes early and ask for Carl, the owner.
Carl is an older guy, probably mid-50s and well built. He towers a good 6 inches over me, at 6'4" and probably weighs 210 lbs. As imposing as he is, he's a sweet guy and has a genuine smile. We chat about non-fitness things and he has a wonderful ability to set me at ease. I'm feeling super confident as he transitions into the actual interview. He asks me some preliminary muscle group questions, and what types of routines one would have to put together for someone with a shoulder injury, or a knee replacement. All standard stuff, and I know it. He asks me to put together a quick routine for a couple types of clients. Fine, no big deal.
Then he asks me to do some basic exercises (squats, dead lifts, the usual). Again, no big deal.
I proceed with the routine and stumble at a few key moments, but I still think I did ok enough to keep moving on.
"So, that was good, but I'm having a hard time seeing your form with your baggy clothes. Would you be willing to proceed with the routine in your underwear? I think it's kind of essential at this point."
The moment freezes and I'm paralyzed. He wants me to strip down to my underwear. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but genius me didn't wear underwear this time.
"Well, I would, but...," i trail off.
"Well, what?"
"Well, I'm, um, kind of not wearing underwear..."
He paused for a moment.
"Well, Mark, I can't see if you're performing the routine right. Your clothes are simply too baggy. You have the choice of removing them and redoing the routine, or ending it here and now."
Now I'm fucked. Here I am, dream on the line, and the only thing preventing me from achieving it was a lack of thin cotton.
"Besides it's just you and me in this room. No one else can see in," he continued.
I froze for what felt like forever, but in actuality was probably just 10 seconds, "All right, I'll do it."
I pull my t-shirt off, exposing my abs and hair-dusted torso and pecs, to which he smiled slightly.
My heart was racing. Was I really going to do this? This next step was going to be a big one. I slid my thumbs behind the elastic waistband of my shorts and held them for a moment. Carl shifted in his chair and cleared his throat, he was growing impatient. I tugged the waistband down slightly, exposing my trimmed pubic hair and the beginning of my shaft.
His eyes shifted downward and to my crotch as more and more of my shaft is revealed. It's now or never, I think.
Finally they're off and I am standing there naked. Not moving, just standing with my arms to my side. I'm waiting for him to direct me, I suppose, but I know he's just surveying my body. Especially my flaccid, uncircumcised dick.
He falters and clears his throat again, "Ok, let's start with some squats."
He's up from his desk and moving closer now as I start my set of squats.
Carl moves behind me and places his hands on my waist. He's not guiding me, merely holding me as I thrust up and down. He must clearly be able to see my crack each time I squat down as well.
"Great. You're doing great. Let's move on to some dead lifts."
He's still standing behind me as I pick up a barbell and begin my set of lifts.
"Hold on," he calls out as I bend over for my third rep. Carl moves closer to me and puts his hand on my back and another on my ass. His finger is dangerously close to my hole. And I think it's making it's way closer.
I continue with my set of lifts but Carl doesn't remove either of his hands.
"Let's do some crunches. I'll hold your ankles."
I turn around and face Carl. All the attention he's been paying to my butt and crack have started to have an effect on my dick and it's risen a little. It's subtle, but it's definitely more inflated. I'm praying he doesn't notice.
I lay down on the floor and assume the standard position for a tradition sit-up. Carl kneels down and puts his hands on my ankle. He has a complete close-up view of my slowly inflating cock. It's even thicker now than it was when I turned around. This is not good.
I begin my set and Carl is holding on as he told me he would, though I'm a master at sit-ups. I don't really need him to. I'm not about to argue with him, though.
My cock is even thicker now that I know he's been staring. I am starting to get worried that my penchant for being admired is going to lose me this job.
"Looking good, Mark. You really know what you're doing!"
"Well, thanks Carl. I appreciate that," I answer, glad he's not looking at my dick anymore. Maybe now it'll deflate some.
"Let me got Dr. Fisher in here to perform the physical. It'll just be a couple minutes. You can relax here, I'll be right back."
With that Carl leaves the room. He didn't tell me I could get dressed so now I'm not sure. Should I? Should I stay naked?
After a good minute of going back and forth on this I decide to just stay naked. I don't want to jeopardize anything at this point. I mean, I've moved on to the physical in the interview. That's a good thing, right? It means I almost have the job!
I'm pacing the office, not sure where to settle down, but glad that my cock had completely deflated back to it's flaccid state. Suddenly the door opens and Carl enters leaving the door wide open. There are gym members right outside his office door working out. They can clearly see in to his office now and they can clearly see me standing there naked.
"Dr. Fisher will be in just a minute. He was on the phone. Sorry about that."
I quickly cover up my dick, trying to avoid the gaze of the members out on the gym floor. There's a small crowd forming and they're all looking in.
Finally a man enters and closes the door. I only pray that it's the doctor and that this is almost over.
"Hi. I'm Dr. Fisher. You must be Mark."
He extends his hand to shake mine and I realize I must uncover myself to shake his. It's rather pointless for me to stay covering up anyway since he's going to see it all in two seconds when he starts the physical.
Dr. Fisher looks remarkably like Carl. Then it dawns on me. Fisher.
That's Carl's last name. They must be brothers or something. Sometimes I'm not so quick on the uptake.
The doctor begins with his standard physical - eyes, ears, throat, blood pressure. The works. All move along quickly and satisfactorily. He asks me to repeat some of the poses and moves I did for his brother just a few minutes ago and he, remarkably, holds me in the same spots that Carl held me in. Are they twins or something? Do they share thoughts?
Much like deja vu with being held, my cock remembers too and starts to inflate again. Only this time it's not being subtle about it and starts to shoot up almost completely erect when the doctor slides his finger towards my ass crack.
Carl, meanwhile, is back at his desk watching the whole thing. And he got first row tickets to my rising to the occasion. I caught the beginnings of a smile on his face as he pulled out his iPhone. He better not be taking pictures of this.
The doc moves in front of me and eyes my now completely erect cock.
"Please tell me you take good care of your foreskin, Mark?"
I thought I was uncomfortable before, this takes the cake.
"Yes, doctor. Of course. I clean it regularly."
"Good man. Since I'm here and it seems to be... um, well, ready to go, I'm going to check to make sure that your foreskin pulls back normally and all is in working order, ok?"
He wrapped his hand around my hard shaft and pulled my skin back.
Obviously I didn't really have a choice in the matter, now did I?
The doctor got on his knees so he was now eye level with my cock and continued to stroke it. If it wasn't completely erect already it sure as hell would be now.
"Carl, could you come here for a second," called out the doctor?
Oh no. Why did he need Carl over here by my dick "for a second". What in the world could Carl need?
"I need you to resume stroking his penis for me while I get a sterile cup from my office. I would like a sperm sample from him."
Why did he need a sperm sample? This was highly inappropriate. But like before, I didn't argue. I wanted this job.
The doctor opened the door once more and exited, leaving the door wide open again. Carl, meanwhile, was still working on my shaft, tugging away like he was getting paid for it.
The crowd that had formed outside on the gym floor was back. This time twice the size. I think everyone that worked there was standing just outside the door now watching as their boss was jerking off this idiot inside who didn't wear underwear to a personal training job interview.
It was beyond embarrassing, and yet, it turned me on at the same time. Guy or girl, it didn't matter. I always got off on someone catching a glimpse of my dick.
At the urinals I'd shake my cock for an extra second and step back an extra inch to let the guy next to me have a good look if he wanted. At the gym (as a patron) I took an extra long time to towel off and would let the towel slip off as I walked past a cute guy. I always found an excuse to show off whenever I could.
This time was a little different, I suppose. I didn't choose to show off, and that's what was making me uncomfortable. I always felt in control those other times. Here I was completely not in control. But here I was, completely naked, completely erect and being completely jerked off my hopeful new boss in front of a slew of potential clients and coworkers.
The doctor returned, finally!
But he didn't close the door as he entered. He left it wide open. What the fuck?
I wanted to call out to the doctor and ask him to shut the door, but Carl, who seriously knows how to stroke some dick, was working me too well because I am insanely close to shooting.
But why is the door still open? Everyone outside was practically barging in now. Clearly the doctor must have forgotten. Or maybe he didn't care.
There had to be some oath about giving a patient privacy when he's about to nut, right? Surely Hippocrates must have thought about that.
But it ultimately didn't matter because I'm a second away from shooting off a giant load right into a cup as my potential new boss strokes my dick into a cup his brother is holding while everyone I will hopefully work with soon is just outside watching.
Finally I lean back into Carl completely now as I shoot my first load. I shoot really far and miss the cup entirely. It didn't miss the doc's trousers, though. It lands squarely on his crotch. Serves him right for leaving the door open.
The second and third load are caught in the cup, however.
Carl is still pumping away, slower now, though, and he's resting his other hand on my ass, his middle finger against my hole gently pushing against it, but not entering it.
Everyone is silent. The doctor, Carl, myself, even the crowd which is now spilling into the office.
"Well Mark, I think you did great today. When can you start?"