The Road to Hope

Hope, Alaska is a small town which lies sixteen miles off a deserted stretch of Highway 9 which connects Anchorage to Seward. Not many people live in Hope for there really isn't a lot to do there. The population doubles in the summer to a few hundred as the cottages and campgrounds fill up with tourists looking for a peaceful break. During the rest of the year the town is very quiet.

As such, Theresa was a little surprised when I took the road to Hope in early May. We had just finished a day in Seward and were heading back to Anchorage, a three hour drive. It was raining hard. There did not seem to be much point in this diversion. But as she was nodding in and out of consciousness in the passenger's seat, Theresa did not make any objection. After all, a long drive while sleeping is not a tough thing to handle. The miles pass by effortlessly.

There were no other cars on the road going in. We drove through beautiful woods where the branches of the trees hung over the road as we passed through. The rain beat a steady rhythm on the hood and roof of the car. The drive was carefree and serene. It felt like we had not only the road but the entire world to ourselves.

A few miles in, the road begins to hug the western shore of Turnagain Arm, a large salt water offshoot of Cook Inlet and the Pacific Ocean. The shifting sands and glacial silt at the bottom of the Arm make it impossible for boats to navigate on it so the surface is always smooth and traffic free. Several miles across the arm on the eastern side the Chugach Mountains rise up from the sea to tower several thousand feet above the water. The scenery along the road can be phenomenal.

It wasn't long before we reached Hope. It lies about a half mile off the main road. But I decided to bypass the town and drive through a campground at the end of the road. I did the loop through the park finding that it was completely deserted. At one point I pulled over to the side of the gravel path.

"Let's go for a walk."

We walked on a narrow foot trail about a quarter mile through the woods. The cool spring air was crisp and invigorating. The rain was still coming down but not quite as heavy as before. At the end of the trail we came to a clearing on a bluff overlooking the Turnagain Arm. The view was magnificent. We could see for miles across and along the water. Below us was a sandy beach covered in grey driftwood. The mountains across the arm were snow covered. It was an awesome vista. And as far as the eye could see, we were the only people in sight. The only sign of life was a few buildings in Hope which were visible about a mile down the shoreline. For a few minutes neither one of us said a word. We were contemplating the spectacular beauty which was before us.

Then I broke the silence. "Theresa, I want you to pull your pants down and put your hands on the railing in front of you. I am going to spank you right here, right now."

In what has to rate as the most perfect act of submission I have ever seen, Theresa without the slightest hesitation pulled her pants down, leaned forward, and put her hands on the railing. I was truly touched. Her instant obedience without questioning or even flinching greatly magnified the intensity of the scene. She stood there, waiting to feel my hand, trembling slightly, feeling so exposed and so wicked for wanting to be that way. The spanking was hard. Both my hand and her ass were stinging hot. The flesh quickly turned red. But the chilling rain and the cool breeze provided an instant and novel sensation of relief. It was a beautiful and most memorable spanking. The smacking sound must have travelled for miles.

After the spanking, we kissed. We both felt so alive. Theresa wanted to take me further so I laid down on a nearby picnic table while she gave me an incredible blowjob. It was so nice laying on that table feeling the rain coming down on me while experiencing her oral talents. The orgasm is one I shall never forget.

Because of the openness of the area we both felt as if we were putting on an exhibition for the world to see, even though we knew there was no one there. But then again, who knows! Maybe someone across the water with binoculars surveying the beauty of Alaska caught an unexpected vision of joy and pleasure which he or she will never forget. I'd like to think that's the case. It makes me laugh to think so.