Paradise by the Dashboard Light

Hot, late and pissed off. That pretty much described my state of mind as I barreled down Interstate 35 on the Fourth of July weekend.

The sun had gone down two hours before, but the midsummer heat lingered like the smoky remnants of a dying campfire. The humidity hung thick in the air, and I had no way to escape it. This old car's air conditioner was very temperamental, and usually just as the temperature rose enough that you'd want it, it stopped working. I had the windows open, but at highway speeds I preferred them to be down only a few inches.

I was on my way home. The 250-mile drive was by no means short, but I had planned to leave work at 3:30, be on the road by 4 and pulling up at my folks' house by 9. But then there were problems at the office, I was stuck there until after 5, then I got caught in rush hour traffic. It was now past 10 p.m., and I still had two hours of driving ahead of me.

I was also making the trip alone. My fiance had not only not worked late—he actually hit the road at about noon and had long since settled in at my parents' place. That grated on my nerves.

As if all that wasn't enough to turn my mood foul, 45 minutes into my trip the car's radio had suddenly stopped working. It just went quiet—no amount of fiddling with buttons and knobs would get it going again, and I finally gave up after an hour.

At this time of night, the traffic had died down considerably. There were a few cars on the road, but nothing serious. That's why I didn't even look twice at the gray Chrysler as I pulled out into the passing lane to slip past him. But as I pulled even with the car, I heard familiar strains of music floating through my window.

"You were licking your lips and your lipstick shining, I was dying just to ask for a taste," rang out Meat Loaf's powerful voice.

I grinned in spite of myself. I loved this song—the whole album, in fact. I hadn't listened to it in ages, but hearing the lyrics brought back happy memories of my college days. I found myself singing along.

"We were lying together in a silver lining, by the light of the moon, you know there's not another moment, not another moment to waste," I wailed, almost certainly off key.

I had slowed down to pace the gray Chrysler and enjoy the music, but suddenly I realized someone was looking at me. I glanced out the passenger window and, while I couldn't see him too clearly in the dark, it was obvious the male driver of the car was looking at me. The dashboard dials illuminated his face for a brief second or two, and I took in an average but pleasant face, curly hair that perhaps needed a trim and piercing blue eyes. A second later, the glimpse was gone as I sped up slightly again.

I could still hear Meat Loaf's voice. "And then you took the words right out of my mouth," he sang. "It must have been while you were kissing me."

I hovered in the passing lane, and the driver of the other car hit the gas slightly. I did the same, wanting to enjoy the music a while longer. He slowed a little, and I followed suit.

And then suddenly, it hit me. He probably thought I was flirting with him. He could see me as well as I could see him, and while I'm no supermodel, he could do worse. At 32, I stay in shape but not obsessively. My looks are good enough to have gotten me my share of boyfriends, suitors and, last time I checked, a fiance. My shoulder-length dark blonde hair still bore some semblance of the hairdo I'd worn to the office earlier in the day.

The song was ending, and I heard the opening bars of "Heaven Can Wait." I hummed along to the soft ballad, still keeping pace with the gray Chrysler—sometimes pulling a little ahead, sometimes a little behind.

So what if the guy thought I was flirting? Maybe I was, a little. I'd had a shitty day, and he and his music had already made it a little bit better. What was the harm in a little flirting?

However, there was no sense in leading the guy on. Just then, we drove through a small interchange where a town and another set of highways broke up the interstate's monotony. I took advantage of the extra light to try to express to the man that my intentions were pure. I pointed to my ear, then gestured to his car. I mimed singing, then put my hand over my heart and smiled.

He grinned back and turned up the music. Well, at least I got my point across...didn't I?

Back out on the freeway, we sped up again but stayed close to side by side as the gentle music washed through both our cars. I relaxed a little more, realizing that these classic tunes had the ability to turn my mood around, ease my troubles and maybe even make my weekend a whole lot better.

A few miles down the road, the CD player moved on to the next track. The raucous sounds of "All Revved Up with No Place to Go" got my blood pumping and I found myself singing even louder than before. The man in the gray Chrysler was obviously enjoying the spectacle of this strange lady and her Meat Loaf obsession.

He began to play and tease a little. When Meat Loaf sang about being revved up, he'd goose his engine a little. I began to do the same, causing my car to lurch slightly alongside his. I glanced over his way and in the dim light from his instrument panel and my parking lights, I saw him smile at me. His toothy grin was actually pretty sweet. On another night, in another situation, I could almost imagine being interested.

The song was ending, and I could feel the crescendo building. "All revved up and no place to go!" Meat Loaf bellowed, five straight times before abruptly bringing the song to a close. I sang along, note for note, and during the few seconds of dead time before the next song started I realized I was a little out of breath. I panted slightly and then heard the tinkling piano that started "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad."

Well, this should be a good break, I thought to myself. After the wildness of "Revved Up," I could use another ballad to calm down.

"Baby, we can talk all night," Meat Loaf crooned, "but that ain't getting us nowhere." I sang along, hearing a plaintive side to the song that I'd never really noticed before. I looked over at the gray Chrysler and saw that the man was also singing along. He looked back at me, his eyes flashing in the dark.

"I want you, I need you, but there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you," Meat Loaf sang, backup singers echoing his words. 
And then something clicked in my mind. Here I'd spent the last half hour or more with a total stranger, connecting on a primal level through our love of music. It was late, it was dark, I was lonely and suddenly my parents' house and my fiance seemed to be a very, very long way away. Acting on instinct, I pulled ahead of my friend in the gray Chrysler just in time to catch an exit ramp to a state route. As I signaled and pulled onto the ramp, I held my breath as I watched to see if the guy would follow my lead. I'm not sure why I watched so intently—I had nothing to gain if he trailed me off the interstate, but I really had nothing to lose either.

I surprised myself a little, though, when I breathed a sigh of relief as I noticed his headlights remained in my rearview mirror. We hit the sleepy state route at a little under the speed limit and suddenly I had second thoughts.

What was I doing? This guy was a complete stranger. He might have a knife, a gun, a machete. He could leave me bruised and battered by the side of the roadway. But breathlessly, I pushed aside these doubts. After all, the guy is a Meat Loaf fan...how bad could he be?

A country road led off to the right, and I turned onto the gravel. He followed, and then we both pulled over at the wide place where a farmer had built in an access point for his field. I killed my lights and engine, and before I could change my mind I stepped out of my car and strode back to the gray Chrysler. I heard the doors unlock and pulled the passenger door open.

I sat down and turned toward my friend/stranger. Those flashing blue eyes looked me over with obvious interest and he leaned across and kissed me. I kissed back as the rockabilly guitar that started "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" twanged through the Chrysler's passenger compartment.

Our tongues intertwined as we heard Meat Loaf admire his date. His tongue tip teased my teeth, and I nibbled it as it neared the corners of my mouth. His stubble scratched against my smooth chin and I reached up and entwined my fingers in his curly hair. "We were glowin' like the metal on the edge of a knife, glowin' like the metal on the edge of a knife," I heard echoing in my ears.

As Ellen Foley chimed in about being "barely 17" and "barely dressed," we clambered into the back seat. Meat Loaf came back in to echo the same sentiment, and as he cajoled his date to "open up your eyes, I got a big surprise, it'll feel all right, well, I wanna make your motor run" my friend unbuttoned my blouse. I helped by reaching back and unhooking my bra and suddenly his lips were locked on my nipple.

"Come on! Hold on tight!" Meat Loaf sang.

Wordlessly, he nuzzled my breasts as I fumbled with his belt buckle and opened his pants. His cock was pointing straight up, pushing out the waistband of his boxers. I hooked the elastic in my fingers and freed more of his shaft, then bent over and engulfed his throbbing member in my mouth.

"We're gonna go all the way tonight, we're gonna go all the way, tonight's the night," I heard as my tongue swirled around his cockhead, slurping up the precome I found there.

I bobbed up and down a few times and then felt my friend's hands on the small of my back. He seemed to measure the flare of my waist and hips, then slipped his hands as far as he could into my slacks. Still holding his penis in my mouth, I reached down beneath myself and unfastened my fly as the radio announcer started his portion of the song.

"He's gonna slide in head first!" the announcer's nasal voice said as my friend slipped my pants down past my hips. "Here he comes, he's OUT! No, wait! Safe—safe at second base, this kid really makes things happen out there."

My friend pushed me back upright as the announcer continued to track Meat Loaf's progress with his date. My pants were around my thighs now, and his hands clutched my plump and fleshy ass cheeks.

"Here he comes, squeeze play! It's gonna be close! Holy cow, I think he's gonna make it!"

At that point Ellen Foley abruptly changed the song's tone. I wasn't interested. As she wondered whether Meat Loaf would love her forever, never leave her, make her happy for the rest of his life, I helped my friend to push my slacks and panties the rest of the way down.

By the time Meat Loaf was begging her to let him sleep on it, my friend was slipping his tongue into the gooey folds of my pussy, teasing my clit and slurping at my juicy hole. He continued to devour my musky cunt as Meat Loaf and Ellen negotiated their terms for the evening. She wanted promises; he was delaying. I was doing no such thing. I leaned back and moaned as my friend used his oral talents and brief moment in time to further moisten my pussy.

Not that I needed it. As the frenzied debate reached its climax, I could feel the thick ooze from my pussy slip into my ass crack, lubing the entire area between my legs.

"Let me sleep on it!" Meat Loaf pleaded.

"Will you love me forever?" Ellen asked.

"Let me sleep on it!" he repeated.

"Will you love me forever?" She wasn't changing her stance.

And then I realized my friend's lips had left my nether lips, and just as Meat Loaf gave in and agreed to love her forever, I felt that thick rod stab into my vagina, stretching apart my pussy lips and probing the gooey depths inside.

We were so hot and bothered by this time that our coupling took only a few moments. I rode him like I was at a rodeo and he was the prize bull. We alternated between kissing, licking pussy juice and precome off each other's faces and panting hot humid breath into each other's mouths as I stroked my pussy back and forth on his cock. I could feel my ass muscles working as I pushed up to meet his thrusts. I'll never know whether his penis was just a different shape than the others I'd had, or if the urgency of the moment caused my cunt to accept his thrusts in a different way, but within just a minute or so I felt my climax form into a tight knot in my lower abdomen, then release in pulsing waves that rocked my entire slit from clit to asshole. At the same moment, he grunted, pushed his entire length into me and began spurting his seed into my hot and hungry hole.

As the song wound down, I pulled up my slacks and closed my blouse. He made himself presentable as well, but I didn't stick around. I had places to be.

Wordlessly, I returned to my car, started the engine and put the gearshift into the "drive" position. I pulled a u-turn out of the farmer's gate space and headed back to the interstate without checking to see if my friend was following.

I wondered if the radio was working again. I touched the dial and it sprang to life. Amazingly, I heard Meat Loaf's voice bellowing out of the speakers on the classic rock station I'd listened to last.

"Like a bat out of hell, I'll be gone when the morning comes," he sang. "When the night is over, like a bat out of hell I'll be gone, gone, gone..."

I turned onto the entrance ramp and pressed the gas pedal almost to the floor.