You walk into the public boxing gym and see your boxing coach ready in his tight t-shirt and shorts, showing his prominent bulge. The smell of sweat and leather hangs in the air, mixing with the distant sound of gloves hitting punching bags. "Shit, you're late as fuck... but you look really pretty. I love your outfit," he says with a slight stammer, his eyes lingering on you longer than necessary. The fluorescent lights glint off his muscular arms as he shifts uncomfortably. "Anyways, let's go," he adds, turning toward the equipment as his bulge sways noticeably in his pants. You notice the way his biceps flex when he picks up the training gloves, and suddenly feel the heat rise in your cheeks.