The Fuck-it List
Copyright© 2025 by ahorsewithnoname
Chapter 12
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 12 - Award-winning erotic adventure of a lifetime, with two good friends fulfilling one's bucket list item in the wilds of Arizona. White-water rafting the Colorado river is daring; when it's at an all-time high, it becomes a face-off with death, where an unlikely hero surfaces. Mixed with lots of sex, romance and a splash of humor, this romp is a thriller AND explains the author's pen name origin! You can view reader's comments over at Bookapy.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Anal Sex Oral Sex Safe Sex
The maelstrom of muddy, surging water before us was unlike anything I’d seen in my life. I saw a flow of water that reminded me of the Banzai Pipeline on north Oahu. This wasn’t whitewater rapids. It was a brown, churning, frothy boiling whirlpool-like hurricane conceived and designed by Satan himself.
The last words I heard as we entered the Charbydian, turbulent vortex came from Katie.
“Fuck me!”
I knew that wasn’t a second invitation to sample her holy of holies.
I’m not sure how often rafts go airborne on the Colorado, but that was our experience with Granite. It flung us to the right, which sucked for us seated on the right since we were gravimetrically torn away from the protective side of the raft.
But our trouble was short-lived as we got sidetracked into a swirling eddy that spun us, in slow-motion, and mostly out of control, through the rest of the rapid.
Our respite was short as in rapid, excuse the pun, fashion we smashed our way through Hermit and Boucher. Both provided some chills, as cold, fifty-degree water drenched us, and thrills, as we sped through this rollercoaster water ride complete with screams of terror.
Just as we all looked around and smiled and thought “We got this!” we entered the realm of Crystal Rapids. On a revised scale of 1-10 as some use for the Canyon rapids, on a calm day, Crystal was a 7. On a bad day, it was only one of two rapids in the whole 230+ miles of river in the Canyon that got rated a 10.
Today, she was an 11. Maybe a 12. On the Class scale, Katie announced “Six” and for the first time, I saw doubt in her eyes.
I’m quite confident that if I had any liquid in my bladder I’d have pissed myself. The speed of the water was bad enough, causing various cross-currents, dips and plunges, and odd vortexes that seemed to defy gravity and logic. What made it worse were the large boulders that stood guard.
Jake and Katie started screaming orders, struggling to be heard over the roar of the rushing water. Despite aching muscles, we all worked in unison, paddling left, holding, reversing, whatever they barked out, we quickly shifted gears, quite honestly scared for our lives.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Inexperienced rafters shouldn’t be put through such trials, and we were no exception.
We hit the largest of the boulders and it spun us around one hundred eighty degrees, so we were now traveling through some of the highest-rated rapids on the North American continent ... backward.
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