/Frôg • hôg/ 1. A woman who only dates SEALs The first time I did it, I labeled it novelty. The second, I was ovulating and extremely horny, the third time was because I’d had two martinis and he had fourteen abs. Fourteen. You don’t say no to that.
My name is Valen, and I’m addicted to SEALs. Bag them, tag them, on to the next. One ships out, the next ships in. It has become a hobby, a recreational sport, if you will. Their skills inside the bedroom are comparable to their notoriety on the battlefield. I’m pretty sure it...
/Frôg • hôg/ 1. A woman who only dates SEALs The first time I did it, I labeled it novelty. The second, I was ovulating and extremely horny, the third time was because I’d had two martinis and he had fourteen abs. Fourteen. You don’t say no to that.
My name is Valen, and I’m addicted to SEALs. Bag them, tag them, on to the next. One ships out, the next ships in. It has become a hobby, a recreational sport, if you will. Their skills inside the bedroom are comparable to their notoriety on the battlefield. I’m pretty sure it has something to do with their trigger finger. I could be wrong, so don’t quote me on that.
From the moment I met the infamous SEAL they call, Hutch, my game begins faltering. He wants more than one night, and while I wouldn’t mind a double dip, falling for this lethally good-looking frog would be bad for my health. Counting abs turns into counting dates, and dates turn into something else entirely. Forever.
