SadieFox26
Hey
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2026
- Posts
- 41
I had been thinking about Tuesday for days.
Not because I had some particularly exciting floral project scheduled.
Although technically, I did.
Mr. Jones had called about finalizing his outdoor containers and discussing arrangements for the house.
A perfectly legitimate business appointment.
At least that’s what it said on my calendar.
But after my unexpected afternoon with the bride’s father, I found myself looking at certain situations a little differently.
And Mr. Jones?
Well, let’s just say he’d been occupying a rather interesting corner of my imagination.
Those hands.
That smile.
That confidence.
The way he looked at me without pretending he wasn’t looking.
And those ten seconds when he’d massaged my shoulders.
Ten seconds.
Ridiculous how much trouble a man could cause in ten seconds.
I wondered what three hours might be like.
Not that I was planning anything.
Of course not.
I was simply going to discuss flowers.
Again.
Apparently, I had become very dedicated to my profession.
12:45 PM: Getting Ready
I stood in front of the mirror, debating my outfit.
I’d settled on my pale denim overalls over a fitted green patterned crop top.
A baseball cap.
My blonde hair loosely gathered to one side.
Casual. Comfortable. A little playful.
I turned sideways and studied myself.
The overalls were relaxed, but the top fit nicely.
Amazing side boob lol …I thought to myself and showing just a bit of my sides to display my tan & my abs.
I smiled.
Mr. Jones had made such a fuss about my braids last time.
I wondered what he’d think of this.
Then I caught myself wondering.
And laughed.
“Sadie, you’re ridiculous.”
But I didn’t change.
I grabbed my notebook, my phone, and my bag.
And headed out.
1:00 PM: The Doorway
Mr. Jones answered almost immediately.
He was wearing a dark T-shirt and athletic shorts.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
That familiar confident smile.
And those enormous hands resting casually against the doorframe.
He looked at me.
Then at my outfit.
Then back at my face.
“Well, well.”
I laughed.
“That’s becoming your standard greeting.”
He stepped aside.
“You’re making it difficult to come up with anything better.”
“Mr. Jones, I haven’t even walked through the door.”
“I noticed.”
I shook my head.
This man.
He closed the door behind me.
“Coffee? Water?”
“Water would be great.”
He headed toward the kitchen.
I followed, noticing how comfortable the house already felt.
I’d only been here twice.
But somehow it didn’t feel like visiting a stranger anymore.
He handed me a bottle of water.
Then nodded toward my overalls.
“New look today.”
“Do you approve?”
He smiled.
“Are you actually asking me that?”
“Maybe.”
“Then yes. Very much.”
I laughed.
“Good. Now can we please discuss your flowers?”
“Absolutely.”
He paused.
“Although I suspect you’re going to make concentrating difficult again.”
I gave him my sweetest smile.
“Sounds like a personal problem.”
He burst out laughing.
1:30 PM: The Patio
We started outside.
The containers were enormous, and I’d brought several ideas for seasonal arrangements.
We discussed colors, textures, and which plants would tolerate the afternoon sun.
For almost twenty minutes, we were impressively professional.
Then I crouched beside one of the planters.
“See this?” I asked. “I think we could use something taller here.”
No answer.
“Mr. Jones?”
“Yes?”
I glanced over my shoulder.
He was looking at me.
Again.
I laughed.
“Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Something about taller.”
“Unbelievable.”
He grinned.
“You asked.”
I stood up, dusting off my knees.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet you keep coming back.”
There it was.
That confidence.
That complete refusal to pretend.
I tilted my head.
“Well, you do have very nice containers.”
He laughed.
“Is that what we’re calling them?”
I nearly choked on my water.
“Mr. Jones!”
“What?”
He held up his hands innocently.
Those ridiculous hands.
I shook my head and went back to my notebook.
Begonias.
Focus on the begonias.
2:00 PM: The Question
We’d moved inside to review the final arrangements.
I was standing at the kitchen island, showing him photographs on my phone.
He stood beside me.
Close.
But not touching.
Then he looked at me.
“Sadie, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Are you always this much trouble?”
I laughed.
“Me? You’re the one who keeps flirting with your florist.”
He smiled.
“You’re not exactly discouraging me.”
I looked up at him.
“No. I suppose I’m not.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he asked, more quietly, “Would you like me to stop?”
I studied him.
It would have been easy to make another joke.
To pretend I didn’t understand.
But something about the way he asked made me want to answer plainly.
“No.” I’m a big girl…
His expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to tell me he understood.
“Good,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Good?”
“Very good.”
I laughed.
And just like that, I could feel my carefully rehearsed professionalism slipping away.
2:20 PM: Those Hands Again
We returned to the patio.
The afternoon was warm, but the covered seating area was comfortable.
I sat down and rolled my shoulders.
He noticed immediately.
“Long day?”
“Not really. Just tense.”
He smiled.
“Want me to try that shoulder massage again?”
I looked at him.
There it was.
The question I’d wondered whether he’d ask.
“Are you offering?”
“I am.”
I pretended to consider it.
“Well, you did a pretty good job last time.”
“Pretty good?”
I laughed.
“Don’t get a big head.”
He moved behind my chair.
“May I?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
It shocked me a little when he first unhooked my overalls and the shoulder straps fell to my sides.
His hands settled on my shoulders.
And there was that familiar feeling.
Warm.
Strong.
Surprisingly gentle.
I closed my eyes as he worked the tension from my neck.
After 20 minutes of an amazing neck and shoulder massage , I laughed softly.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Sadie.”
I opened my eyes.
“Okay. I was just remembering how much I thought about that ten-second massage after my last visit.”
His hands paused.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He laughed.
“Now you tell me.”
I tilted my head to look at him.
“Well, you never asked.”
He shook his head.
“You’re something else.”
I smiled.
“I’ve been told.”
2:45 PM: No More Games
Eventually, he stopped massaging and came around to sit beside me.
His arm rested behind me on the table, not touching me but very close.
For once, he seemed almost thoughtful.
“Can I share something with you?”
“Absolutely.”
“I had a chat with the Bride’s Father.”
My eyes widened, and I could feel my cheeks heating up as I blushed intensely. I was at a loss for words.
Before I could respond, he said, “Sadie, I expect the same level of customer service that he (the Bride’s father) received.”
He was looking directly at me…smiling but I could tell he was dead serious…
I managed a half-smile and was about to say something…
But before I could get a word out, he stood up, just three feet away from me, towering over me, looking down at me.
In one smooth motion, he used both hands to pull his shorts and boxers down to the floor and stepped out of them.
He stood tall right in front of me, but this time, his impressive semi-hard cock was hanging between his legs.
He gazed down at me, and I couldn’t help but stare back, my eyes darting to his cock…It was pulsating slightly.
I had never seen a naked black man before, and I had never encountered a cock this size.
It was as thick as my forearm and as long as from my elbow to my wrist.
His huge balls hung below, looking even bigger than golf balls.
I was experiencing a fascinating mixture of physical arousal, nervous energy, excitement, vulnerability, and anticipation.
I knew exactly where this afternoon might be heading.
And suddenly, I was nervous.
Not frightened. Not uncertain about whether I wanted to be there.
Just nervous in that deliciously unfamiliar way I hadn't felt in years.
My heart was beating faster. My stomach had that strange fluttering sensation, and I became ridiculously aware of everything around me.
His breathing. His hands. His cock pulsating.
The way he was looking at me.
I wondered whether he could tell how excited I was.
I was trying to look perfectly composed, but inside my thoughts were racing.
Was I really about to do this?
After a very long awkward silence I said, I’m not fucking you”
That’s Ok “ he said.
Feeling like now I had a little control of the situation…
And when he stepped closer, I didn't step away.
I smiled at him…
Because sometimes the most thrilling moment isn't when something happens.
It's the moment you realize you've decided to let it happen.
A moment later i was holding his throbbing large cock with both my hands.
I couldn’t help thinking how nice my finger nail polish looked…
To Be Continued…
Not because I had some particularly exciting floral project scheduled.
Although technically, I did.
Mr. Jones had called about finalizing his outdoor containers and discussing arrangements for the house.
A perfectly legitimate business appointment.
At least that’s what it said on my calendar.
But after my unexpected afternoon with the bride’s father, I found myself looking at certain situations a little differently.
And Mr. Jones?
Well, let’s just say he’d been occupying a rather interesting corner of my imagination.
Those hands.
That smile.
That confidence.
The way he looked at me without pretending he wasn’t looking.
And those ten seconds when he’d massaged my shoulders.
Ten seconds.
Ridiculous how much trouble a man could cause in ten seconds.
I wondered what three hours might be like.
Not that I was planning anything.
Of course not.
I was simply going to discuss flowers.
Again.
Apparently, I had become very dedicated to my profession.
12:45 PM: Getting Ready
I stood in front of the mirror, debating my outfit.
I’d settled on my pale denim overalls over a fitted green patterned crop top.
A baseball cap.
My blonde hair loosely gathered to one side.
Casual. Comfortable. A little playful.
I turned sideways and studied myself.
The overalls were relaxed, but the top fit nicely.
Amazing side boob lol …I thought to myself and showing just a bit of my sides to display my tan & my abs.
I smiled.
Mr. Jones had made such a fuss about my braids last time.
I wondered what he’d think of this.
Then I caught myself wondering.
And laughed.
“Sadie, you’re ridiculous.”
But I didn’t change.
I grabbed my notebook, my phone, and my bag.
And headed out.
1:00 PM: The Doorway
Mr. Jones answered almost immediately.
He was wearing a dark T-shirt and athletic shorts.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
That familiar confident smile.
And those enormous hands resting casually against the doorframe.
He looked at me.
Then at my outfit.
Then back at my face.
“Well, well.”
I laughed.
“That’s becoming your standard greeting.”
He stepped aside.
“You’re making it difficult to come up with anything better.”
“Mr. Jones, I haven’t even walked through the door.”
“I noticed.”
I shook my head.
This man.
He closed the door behind me.
“Coffee? Water?”
“Water would be great.”
He headed toward the kitchen.
I followed, noticing how comfortable the house already felt.
I’d only been here twice.
But somehow it didn’t feel like visiting a stranger anymore.
He handed me a bottle of water.
Then nodded toward my overalls.
“New look today.”
“Do you approve?”
He smiled.
“Are you actually asking me that?”
“Maybe.”
“Then yes. Very much.”
I laughed.
“Good. Now can we please discuss your flowers?”
“Absolutely.”
He paused.
“Although I suspect you’re going to make concentrating difficult again.”
I gave him my sweetest smile.
“Sounds like a personal problem.”
He burst out laughing.
1:30 PM: The Patio
We started outside.
The containers were enormous, and I’d brought several ideas for seasonal arrangements.
We discussed colors, textures, and which plants would tolerate the afternoon sun.
For almost twenty minutes, we were impressively professional.
Then I crouched beside one of the planters.
“See this?” I asked. “I think we could use something taller here.”
No answer.
“Mr. Jones?”
“Yes?”
I glanced over my shoulder.
He was looking at me.
Again.
I laughed.
“Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Something about taller.”
“Unbelievable.”
He grinned.
“You asked.”
I stood up, dusting off my knees.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet you keep coming back.”
There it was.
That confidence.
That complete refusal to pretend.
I tilted my head.
“Well, you do have very nice containers.”
He laughed.
“Is that what we’re calling them?”
I nearly choked on my water.
“Mr. Jones!”
“What?”
He held up his hands innocently.
Those ridiculous hands.
I shook my head and went back to my notebook.
Begonias.
Focus on the begonias.
2:00 PM: The Question
We’d moved inside to review the final arrangements.
I was standing at the kitchen island, showing him photographs on my phone.
He stood beside me.
Close.
But not touching.
Then he looked at me.
“Sadie, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Are you always this much trouble?”
I laughed.
“Me? You’re the one who keeps flirting with your florist.”
He smiled.
“You’re not exactly discouraging me.”
I looked up at him.
“No. I suppose I’m not.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he asked, more quietly, “Would you like me to stop?”
I studied him.
It would have been easy to make another joke.
To pretend I didn’t understand.
But something about the way he asked made me want to answer plainly.
“No.” I’m a big girl…
His expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to tell me he understood.
“Good,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Good?”
“Very good.”
I laughed.
And just like that, I could feel my carefully rehearsed professionalism slipping away.
2:20 PM: Those Hands Again
We returned to the patio.
The afternoon was warm, but the covered seating area was comfortable.
I sat down and rolled my shoulders.
He noticed immediately.
“Long day?”
“Not really. Just tense.”
He smiled.
“Want me to try that shoulder massage again?”
I looked at him.
There it was.
The question I’d wondered whether he’d ask.
“Are you offering?”
“I am.”
I pretended to consider it.
“Well, you did a pretty good job last time.”
“Pretty good?”
I laughed.
“Don’t get a big head.”
He moved behind my chair.
“May I?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
It shocked me a little when he first unhooked my overalls and the shoulder straps fell to my sides.
His hands settled on my shoulders.
And there was that familiar feeling.
Warm.
Strong.
Surprisingly gentle.
I closed my eyes as he worked the tension from my neck.
After 20 minutes of an amazing neck and shoulder massage , I laughed softly.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Sadie.”
I opened my eyes.
“Okay. I was just remembering how much I thought about that ten-second massage after my last visit.”
His hands paused.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He laughed.
“Now you tell me.”
I tilted my head to look at him.
“Well, you never asked.”
He shook his head.
“You’re something else.”
I smiled.
“I’ve been told.”
2:45 PM: No More Games
Eventually, he stopped massaging and came around to sit beside me.
His arm rested behind me on the table, not touching me but very close.
For once, he seemed almost thoughtful.
“Can I share something with you?”
“Absolutely.”
“I had a chat with the Bride’s Father.”
My eyes widened, and I could feel my cheeks heating up as I blushed intensely. I was at a loss for words.
Before I could respond, he said, “Sadie, I expect the same level of customer service that he (the Bride’s father) received.”
He was looking directly at me…smiling but I could tell he was dead serious…
I managed a half-smile and was about to say something…
But before I could get a word out, he stood up, just three feet away from me, towering over me, looking down at me.
In one smooth motion, he used both hands to pull his shorts and boxers down to the floor and stepped out of them.
He stood tall right in front of me, but this time, his impressive semi-hard cock was hanging between his legs.
He gazed down at me, and I couldn’t help but stare back, my eyes darting to his cock…It was pulsating slightly.
I had never seen a naked black man before, and I had never encountered a cock this size.
It was as thick as my forearm and as long as from my elbow to my wrist.
His huge balls hung below, looking even bigger than golf balls.
I was experiencing a fascinating mixture of physical arousal, nervous energy, excitement, vulnerability, and anticipation.
I knew exactly where this afternoon might be heading.
And suddenly, I was nervous.
Not frightened. Not uncertain about whether I wanted to be there.
Just nervous in that deliciously unfamiliar way I hadn't felt in years.
My heart was beating faster. My stomach had that strange fluttering sensation, and I became ridiculously aware of everything around me.
His breathing. His hands. His cock pulsating.
The way he was looking at me.
I wondered whether he could tell how excited I was.
I was trying to look perfectly composed, but inside my thoughts were racing.
Was I really about to do this?
After a very long awkward silence I said, I’m not fucking you”
That’s Ok “ he said.
Feeling like now I had a little control of the situation…
And when he stepped closer, I didn't step away.
I smiled at him…
Because sometimes the most thrilling moment isn't when something happens.
It's the moment you realize you've decided to let it happen.
A moment later i was holding his throbbing large cock with both my hands.
I couldn’t help thinking how nice my finger nail polish looked…
To Be Continued…
