I love American sushi. You know, the sushi covered with sweet syrups, creamy sauces, spices and fried shit that Japanese masters would never even think of serving. I like when you can not taste a hint of the two-week-old fish the Korean restaurateurs are trying to pass off as being fresh. That’s my jam. But seriously, none of that matters, certainly not when I am having a sensational night with a woman like Amber Moore. Part two will follow tomorrow. Maybe some xtra. Guess we shall see.
