Yes, it's the end

You try to muster the strength to get up, to at least go to the bathroom and clean yourself up, but you cannot. Before long, your eyes shut and you are passed out just like your boyfriend. The party continues without either of you. In your dreams, you relive the ****, only you enjoy it even more. It does not even seem like ****. It seems like genuine love-making. When you wake in the early morning, you feel a great sense of shame wash over you.

Your boyfriend is up already, having woken just a few minutes prior. He was studying your body, trying to piece together the reason that his girlfriend was laying on her stomach, skirt up, panties down, in a clear "I've just been fucked" position.

He scratched his head and smiled. "Wow, I must have been really drunk last night. Was I any good?" You realize that he thinks he was the one that did this. That you two simply had druken sex. You have to hide the truth. "You were drunk, that's for sure," you say with a sleepy voice. Then you roll over, pull your panties up and into place, and your skirt down. "Let's get out of here and go home."

Nine months later, the worse has happened. You did indeed get pregnant and now you are living with your boyfriend while taking care of your ****'s child. You never did tell your boyfriend what really happened. He thinks the kid is his, and you plan to leave it that way. But things could get tougher, because this kid looks nothing like your boyfriend, and you fear he is starting to suspect something. One thing is for sure, you are never going to attend another house part again in your life.