olds would jam his foot up your wrong hemisphere ass if he hadn't just polished his boots.
That said, I would be afraid . . . afraid I couldn't keep my sweaty paws off of that magnificent mound of manliness. I'm not gay, but sweet Jesus, this is Commander olds, keeper of the California highways we're talking about here.
You go for the basement atmosphere. You stay for the sticky, creamy love.
I'm afraid. Of what he looks like.
