No, of course not...

You wake up the next morning with you fingers still partially pressed inside you pussy. Well.... you were still a girl. Mixed emotions cloud your mind as you get up and stumbling into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, You gazed over your naked body, your red hair dangling just short of your shoulders, while your cute face is rimmed with your sparkling green eyes. You slender, fuckable frame carries your smooth, albeit smallish breasts, while your slender waist does little to hide the parted lips of your pussy. Toned legs and well turned calves finish off your body. A hand traces down from your sensitive chest to your stomach, gently resting over your womb. Given that you were still a girl, there was almost certainly a bun in your oven. Who knows who the father was... if that even mattered. A whirlwind of emotions swept through you as you thought about the future. Was this going to be your life? Were you going to be **** again and again as your body swelled with child, only to likely get knock up again? But given how much pleasure you derived from it, would that even be a problem? Three primary emotions battled for dominance in your mind, as you sank to the floor and began to finger yourself again, hoping the physical pleasure would help calm the maelstrom. Acceptance, anger, and despair - which was the emotion that was going to dominate your life? Firmly grasping your breast and tweaking your nipple, you plunge your fingers deep inside you again, trying to finger fuck your own brains out. Your orgasm causes your slick pussy to spray out fluids on the floor, and you slink into the shower to finish thinking. Acceptance, defiance, despair...