My name is Hye-Jin, a Korean-American with an insatiable appetite for sexy nylon stockings. You may have read some of my past adventures on websites such as but this was a totally new experience that blew my mind! It started with a business trip to Tokyo last month. It was a really long day of meetings with corporate executives in Marunouchi, the financial center of Tokyo. My day started with getting ready for the meetings. What should I wear? Conservative, black suits that practically all women wear to the office and meetings? Or, being American, would I dare to wear something more daring? I would be the only woman at the meeting, as far as I knew, and definitely the only non-Japanese. The men would be mostly middle-age or older, having worked their way up the corporate ladder after graduating from one of the top universities in Japan, such as Tokyo University, known as Todai by Japanese people. I bet they would love to see me wear something other than a boring black suit. Decided! I pulled out a two-piece beige-colored linen suit, the skirt ending above the knee—business-worthy, and just enough to tantalize curious eyes. What to wear underneath? The men may never know, but I wanted to feel sexy and hold something over the men who hardly experience anything exciting at work or home, except when they hang out at hostess bars after work with fellow workers. Going through my lingerie drawer, I selected a pretty sky-blue garter belt, matching bra and sheer high-cut panties, and a pair of Dior stockings. The nylons were super sheer 15 denier, dark coffee color, with reinforced toes. The guys’ eyes are going to fall out of their sockets! I pulled up the left side first, clipped almanbahis the garters; then I repeated on the right side. Perfect. Forget the slip. I wanted the silvery garter clips and straps to peek through the light linen material, providing a hint of what lay underneath. I then picked out a sheer white blouse with a frilly collar and low neckline. Pulling on the skirt and top, the look was completed. Still somewhat conservative, but much prettier than the standard black suit. Finishing the ensemble was a pair of three-inch slingback heels to show off my nyloned heels. Hmmm, pretty sexy. Out the door and off to the train station in Chiba, the next prefecture to the east, a “bed-town” for the Tokyo metropolis. It was a one and a half hour commute on the express train, but it was worth living in the nicer surroundings out in the suburbs. I arrived at Tokyo Station before my first appointment at 9:00 a.m. typical starting time for Japanese businesses. From the station, it was only five minutes by foot to the Marunouchi Building, home of many top-tier corporations. The 9:00 a.m. meeting was the first of several throughout the day, with only a luncheon meeting to break up the ho-hum meetings. At each of the meetings, it seemed like I was the center of attention as all the men noticed my “daring” outfit – especially a special one-on-one meeting with Takahashi-san, CEO of a large clothing company. We met in his executive office overlooking the Imperial Palace, just the two of us, sitting across from each other. Takahashi-san tried his best not to stare at my legs which were sheathed in fine nylons, but every time I crossed my legs, the swish of the nylons seemed to torment almanbahis yeni giriş him. The hem of my skirt crept up slowly and soon the dark tops of my stockings were peeking out. I flashed him by sitting with my legs slightly apart, giving Takahashi-san a clear view up my skirt, all the way to my sheer panties. I swear I saw sweat on his forehead as his hands stroked his thighs trying to displace his growing desire to pounce on me and run his hands up my legs. Thankfully, the meeting ended soon thereafter. Takahashi-san almost seemed relieved. After a full day of meetings, I was ready for some relaxation. Before heading home, however, I thought a nice massage would feel wonderful. A friend had mentioned a nice massage salon in Asakusa that I might enjoy. She didn’t tell me too much except that this salon had some unusual styles. One was called “nuru massage.” I had never heard of it, but it sounded interesting. The word, “nuru,” I learned, means to rub, especially with something slithery. I wondered what it would be like. A quick google search for “nuru massage” revealed countless websites with detailed descriptions of what promised to be very sensual and stimulating, to say the least. Video clips revealed the variety of special techniques used. My mind raced as I imaged all the possibilities. I called ahead to the salon and made an appointment for a two-hour session. It was only 15,000 yen, a good deal for two hours. I arrived at the Asahi Asian Therapy, upstairs in a small office building not far from Kaminarimon, a famous landmark in Asakusa. As I walked in, I was greeted by the okami-san, an older woman who first served me green tea as she asked some almanbahis giriş questions about what kind of massage I desired. I replied that I heard that “nuru” massage was one of their specialties. The woman replied, “Oh, yes. We are known in Tokyo for one of the best “nuru” massage services. I will be happy to ask our senior therapist to work on you. The “nuru” service will cost an additional 10,000 yen, if that’s okay.” It will, of course, include the full “work-up.” I said, “Sure, sounds like fun!” With that, I forked over 35,000 yen before I was led to a small room in the back. The old woman brought in my therapist, a hunky Japanese man, perhaps mid-twenties, almost six feet tall and good-looking. He looked like someone featured in a fireman’s calendar. “This is ‘Masaichi,’ ‘Masa’ for short. He will take care of you.” “Pleased to meet you,” Masa said. “I will be your therapist today. And may I call you Hye-Min? That’s a nice Korean name.” I replied, “Nice to meet you also, Masa-san.” He looked stunningly handsome, dressed only in flimsy gym shorts and tight tank top. “Just call me ‘Masa,’ no need to be so formal. Here, please come this way so I can help you get ready for the best massage of your life.” Hmmm, “Best massage of my life?” I wondered what this “nuru” business would be like. Masa directed me to the side of a waterbed-like massage bed on the floor. Next to the massage bed was what looked like a bathing area one finds in public baths in Japan, a shower head and faucet with plastic seats and wash basins. This did not look like the standard massage table. It was just like the video clips I viewed on YouTube. My excitement and anticipation grew even more. Masa came up to me, placed his hands on my shoulders and said, “You are now in my hands for the best massage that you have ever had. Just relax and let me do the rest. You don’t have to do a thing.” With that, he started to remove my jacket.