So, if you've read the first three parts of this series, you'll understand how incredibly happy I became in early 2014, and have been ever since. I can't believe that more than 12 years have passed since I first got the then 19-year-old Lynzey in my bathtub at that small student house in London. There she was, smiling, barefoot and perfectly willing to take multiple pies in the face. Even once she realised I was getting a kick from it, it only made her enjoy the experience even more.

It's now April 2014, and Lynzey and I are both 31 years old. You wouldn't know it looking at her, she's still as hot and enthusiastic as she was then. She's still keeping her look cool by experimenting with hair-dyes, she still wears rock clothes, she still listens to punk and, of course, she still loves getting messed up. The only thing that's changed is that she's not just my weekend WAM buddy now, she's my girlfriend and we live together.
We both feel pretty stupid for letting what we had go, when we realise now that we had strong feelings for each other and we had the sexiest time of our lives. Still, we're making up for lost time now by WAMming and fucking whenever we get a spare moment!

I'll update you on some of that as it happens, but for this part, I'm actually going to talk about the one WAM experience I had during my "dry spell" between uni and Lynzey's return. It was in the summer of 2007, and it was with, of all people, my driving instructor.

Yeah, I know, most driving instructors are tedious, balding old men going on about "manoeuvres" and such like. Mine wasn't, her name was Emily and she was 25, fun and hot as hell.

For this story to make sense, I'm going to have to give it some background. You're going to hate me for this, firstly because it has nothing to do with WAM, and secondly because it's another reason why my life is amazing a reason I haven't told you yet.

Like a lot of students, I was broke once I'd finished my course. I quickly realised that having a degree didn't mean you could walk into a great job either. One Saturday morning, I had a couple of quid in my pocket and walked into the local bookies. Without thinking too hard about it, I picked 15 football teams I thought would win that day and put £1.50 on an accumulator. I then forgot about it and went home to watch the games and, probably, think about WAM.

Well, 5 o'clock came that afternoon and I stared in disbelief as the results came in. I had got every single one correct! The bookies was still open, so I went down there clutching the betting club ridiculously hard and took it to the counter.

Of course, they couldn't pay me the £700K there and then, but I didn't mind waiting a short while! I've been fairly sensible with the money £200K of it went on a nice house, which I still live in. I gave some to my family, and I also travelled to Romania to do voluntary work.
I spent two years travelling around Romania and Moldova, immersing myself in the culture and the language. I would read local papers, listen to Romanian radio and simply chatted to locals as much as I could. The result is that I'm now fluent in Romanian.

I work freelance as a translator and interpreter, basically doing whatever hours I feel like. I dip into my winnings sometimes, but it's high-paid work on the whole and I can support myself just by working part time. It's fair to say that, as a young bachelor with no mortgage and no kids, I'm very comfortable financially.

My one act of extravagance was to spend £45K on a convertible, and this before I even had a drivers licence! You'll be please to know I'm going to stop gloating and talk about the more important matter of girls and gunge now, as this was the car I did my lessons in at the age of 25.

One sunny afternoon, I had Emily in the passenger seat. As the wind blew at her long blonde hair, she looked gorgeous. It probably isn't normal to fantasise about your driving instructor, but then most driving instructors weren't young, athletic and hot like her. There was a slight authority factor there as well with her being an instructor and me being the pupil, which made it seem a bit kinky.

"Get up to much at the weekend?" I asked her to make conversation.

"I did an assault course!" she replied. Emily was very into fitness and outdoor activities.

"Oh yeah? How did that go?" I asked

"It was great fun! Very muddy!" she replied. "I love getting a bit messy, though."

Did I hear that correctly? I've never really been into mud, I prefer desserts, but this girl was starting to sound like a WAMmer.

"Really?" I said. "I'd have thought you girls would want to stay clean." I was just blabbering, but I wanted to keep this theme going.

"Nah, I fell in the mud on purpose!" she laughed. "I've always been like that, I would've loved to have gone on Fun House or Get Your Own Back when I was a kid!"

I moved into third gear, careful to grab the gearstick to my left rather than the one developing between my legs!

When my next lesson came around the following week, I decided it might be fun to give her a taste of proper WAM. If she didn't like it, I would stop and apologise, but I had a feeling she would. I still can't believe what I did, it was absolutely reckless but, as seems to be the way in my life, it turned out perfectly.

Emily called at my door and straight away spotted the huge sports bag I was carrying.

"You staying somewhere?" she laughed.

"I've just got to give this stuff back to my mate, he runs a hockey club." I said. "He lives round the corner from you, so I thought we could finish round your way and then you don't have to drive back home. I'll stay at my mate's for the night."

All complete bullshit, of course. She'd soon see what was really in the bag!
I threw the bag in the back seat, took the driver's seat and watched Emily climb into the passenger side. She was wearing a green T-shirt, a white skirt and a pair of flip-flops.

"Your windscreen's a bit dusty," she said. "Why don't you give it a rinse?"

I was glad she'd noticed that. I pushed the windscreen wash lever but, unbeknown to her, I'd done a bit of tinkering with the mechanics. A jet of water shot out, not outside of the windscreen, but inside the car. It sprayed across the dashboard and directly into the face of my driving instructor.

Emily scrunched her face as a few seconds worth of water went into it. She looked puzzled at first, but then smiled.

"Why is it doing that?" she laughed.

"I don't know," I answered. "Shall we try it again?"

"No!" she shouted, but I already had my finger on the lever. Another soaking of Emily's face and hair followed. This one was a bit longer, and the water splashed onto her green T-shirt, wetting her tits.

"That was quite refreshing actually, since it's a hot day!" she said, as the water dripped down her chin.

Emily had taken that in good humour, but I was just testing the water (pardon the pun). The proof of whether she was a real WAMmer would be, quite literally, in the pudding!

We drove down a side road and Emily asked me to pull over.

"OK, let's try a three-point turn."

"A three-pie turn?" I asked inanely as I reached into the sports bag and the cool box inside it.

Emily looked puzzled "No, a three-POINT turn. Oh my.."

She had spotted what I had in my hands. I smashed a coconut cream pie right into her face. It splattered into her hair and all over the headrest behind her.

"There's one!" I said. The pie crust fell off Emily's face and into her lap. She spluttered and opened her mouth, but was smiling happily as she did so.

"Here comes number two!" I taunted, and planted a sloppy whipped cream pie on top of her head. Then, armed with one more messy custard pie, I smushed it into her face and rubbed it in.

"And that," I announced "is a three-pie turn!"

Emily looked up and cleared the pie from her eyes with both hands. She stuck her tongue out, but kept smiling.

"Even in the highly unlikely event that I did say "three-pie turn", why would you think that would mean I wanted you to shove three pies in my face?" Emily asked, acting as the despairing straightman.

"Well, because I've just taken three pies and "turned" your head into a big gooey mess!" I replied.

She laughed, "you certainly have! OK, let's move on."

I started driving in a straight line down the side roads. I came to a junction and had to stop, so I started fishing around in my bag again.

"Eyes on the road, Mike!" Emily advised.

"Sorry," I answered. "Can you hold this for a sec?"

As I drove off, I passed her a big, gooey strawberry cream cake with thick, sloppy icing. She gingerly accepted it and held it in both hands in front of her. I did a quick check of my mirrors to make sure nobody was right behind me, then I slammed on the brakes. Emily lurched forward involuntarily and, in doing so, dunked her face into the big messy cake with a satisfying splat.

Slowly, she lifted her face out. "An emergency stop? Why?!" she exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.

"I had to, I thought I saw a cake in the road," I answered.

"That cake is now all over my face, you berk!" Neither of us could help laughing, this was hilarious! Her delivery was proper Laurel and Hardy stuff. We were acting like some ridiculous slapstick double act where I was the bungling fool and she was the long-suffering butt of all my jokes and messy mayhem.

"Alright," she sighed, pulling the lumps of pink icing out of her hair. "Take a left here, but drive carefully, because this road can get very muddy."

"Mud, you say?" I asked.

"Yes, mud," Emily replied.

I stopped the car and got out, then reached for the bag in the back seat again.

"What ARE you doing now?" she groaned.

I pulled out a huge bucket of "mud" (it was really melted chocolate) and climbed onto the roof of the car with it. I peered through the sunroof, and Emily looked up at me, wondering what on earth I was up to.

"Mud, mud, glorious mud!" I said and tipped the bucket through the sunroof. Emily was still looking up, and a huge dollop of the chocolate landed right in the centre of her already pie-splattered face. It bounced off her nose and covered her entire face. Then she looked ahead and got it all over her blonde hair, and I poured some onto her tits too. As the bucket started to run out, she looked up again and accepted some more gunge in the face.

I got back into the driver's seat and laughed at the state she was in.

"This mud tastes surprisingly like chocolate!" she said. She licked her lips with her long tongue.

"Well, we did have chocolate rain last night!" I laughed.

"It's delicious!" she exclaimed, clearly delighted to be covered in it from head to toe. Her tongue could almost reach her nose, and she had licked clean a circle around her mouth on her otherwise chocolate-covered face.

"Oh, and there's been snow recently too!" I said.

"Snow?" she laughed. "In July?"

"Yes," I said. "Facial blizzards."

"Facial what?" she said, and SMASH, another whipped cream pie in the face!

"Oh, I see!" she said through a facefull of pie crust. There would be plenty more coming her way another nine to be exact. Seat-belted to the passenger chair, she just sat there and took it. She didn't squirm or wipe her face, she simply accepted that it was her turn to get messy, and relished it.

"Does this have anything to do with me telling you I love getting messy?" she asked sweetly, after taking ten cream pies in her face.

"Maybe!" I answered.

"Well, it feels great!" she bubbled.
"Thanks!"

"You're welcome!" I said, "but I think it's time to clean you up now."

"Will I be getting the windscreen wash treatment again?" she asked.

"You'll see!" I said. I had a bit more planned for her than that. I rolled the roof back on the car so that it was open-topped, then drove towards an automated car wash near to where Emily lived.
"Oh no, you wouldn't?" Emily shrieked, finally able to see past all the mess on her face.

I put a coin into the slot and jumped out of the car, taking the sports bag with me. "Happy car wash, Emily!"

She screamed, but it was more a joyous scream than a terrified one, as if she were about to go on a rollercoaster ride. First, the car wash doused her in soapy water. She put her hair down and shook it from side to side.

"I'm gonna get you for this!" she laughed.

The rotating brushes that were supposed to rinse the outside of the car came down, and made contact with her skin.

"Heeheeheehahahaha! That tickles!" I heard her say over the noise of the machinery.

Then came the cold water to rinse her off. What an absolute soaking! She was now clean, but absolutely drenched, and the car was filling up like a swimming pool.
"Brrrrrrr!" she said, hugging herself. It was a warm day, but that was a cold soaking.
To complete the humiliation, she was blasted with hot air, leaving her damp rather than soaked, her hair all over the place, and a dazed expression on her face.

I walked over and opened the driver's door, allowing loads of the water to gush out. It remained at about ankle depth in the car. Emily's flip-flops had come off in all the commotion, and she splashed at the water with her bare feet.

"Well, you don't get put through that every day!" she finally said, out of breath.

"Did you enjoy it?" I asked.

"Every second!" she beamed.

There was still one custard pie left in the bag. I grabbed it and held it in front of her.

"One more for the road?" I asked.

"Yeah, let me have it!" she replied. "Right in the face!"

I drew back my arm and pied her powerfully, oscillating the pie crust in her face to make sure she wasn't at all disappointed with the coverage.

Looking back, it was an absolutely outrageous thing to do for so many reasons. She could have accused me of assault, or somebody could have seen us and wondered what I was up to. I'm pretty sure going through a car wash in a convertible is more than just a bit silly, and could actually be very dangerous. What if Emily's hair had caught in the machinery? And who in their right mind takes a £45K car and deliberately fills it with water?

But I was my usual jammy self and none of these "what if" scenarios happened. All that happened was that we both had a lot of fun, although I think in Emily's case it was merely fun and not arousing.

I sometimes wonder whether I should've tried to make something of it with Emily, but I don't think she thought of me as anything more than an acquaintance with an oddball sense of humour. She was fun and good looking, but she had a boyfriend and I don't think she was a potential girlfriend/WAM buddy in the same way as Lynzey.

Crazy as it was, it felt necessary to mess Emily up like that. I had gone a long time without gunging a girl, and it would be a long time until I did it again. That's why Lynzey and I had a lot of catching up to do, and you'll be hearing about that in due course