I hate the fact that the best orgasm of my life was while I was being raped. I hate it more than anything in the world.

PsychoH

PsychoH

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Just a warning, this depicts a rape. Vividly.

This was 2015. I was in Argentina at a party, and I was pretty drunk so I went upstairs to the bedroom while there was a big party going on downstairs. Some guy came in and saw me and I wasn't really awake, I was coming down on some drugs, and he got into the bed and started feeling me up suddenly. I felt his cock touch my thigh and all of the sudden I just JOLTED awake and then he held me down, hard, on the bed, and started making out with me while holding me down. I struggled and struggled for a solid minute, I tried shouting but he kept making out with me. I remember biting his lip at one point and he just kept making out with me to keep me quiet. But then he entered me. I was so tight. It hurt, his penis was big. And then something just... came over me. I was on drugs, I think some kind of mix of ecstasy and amphetamines, and I was drunk, maybe that played a role. But after a few thrusts I just gave in and let him fuck me, and he was still holding me down so hard but he was so... just attractive and hairy and muscular and I was so attracted to him at the time. I remember feeling his muscles against me and feeling just overwhelmed by the raw masculine sexuality of it all. I wish I could say that I continued to struggle. I wish I could say that I kept trying to push him off and that I hated every second of it. Instead after a few thrusts, I just wrapped my arms and legs around him and let him fuck me. I started to moan slightly. I remember someone walked in briefly, they saw me under him moaning. I could have yelled help. I could have done anything right then, I could have said "PLEASE THIS MAN IS RAPING ME!!". Instead I just laid there and let him fuck me, and my rapist told the guy to shut the door and the guy said something like "haha nice" or some shit like that. And then my rapist went right back to it, harder than before. And something about the forcefulness and the raw muscular feral strength of it all just overwhelmed me and I came, hard, for a long time. Like, my thighs were shaking, I was moaning loudly. It was obvious to him that I was. And I saw the worst sight of him smiling at the sight of me having an orgasm, this horrible, confident smile which said "hell yeah, I am awesome". I remember my brain just went haywire at that moment, I was so angry I wanted to fucking kill him, and simultaneously my pleasure center was just exploding. Then he came, inside of me. He just lay on top of me afterwards for a bit, and he said "that was good, right?". I didn't even know what to say. I had bruises on my shoulder from him holding me down. My vagina was a tiny bit bloody. But he knew I came. He knew that I enjoyed it, a lot. I didn't respond to him, I think he knew that he had raped me, but some part of me thinks that maybe he wasn't even sure, but how could he not be? I was struggling for the first half. He fucking woke me up by rubbing his cock against me. He knew what he had done. He eventually just got up and got dressed and went downstairs to the party and I just laid there, astounded at what had happened, completely in shock and awe at it. He didn't use a condom. I got tested, of course. I never reported it to the police, I wasn't a native to the country and someone saw me literally moaning under him.

Its been 3 years and I hate it so much. I almost wish it was horrible sex, I wish he wasn't so attractive, I wish he was some fat greasy slob so that when I think about it I can just think universal hate for the event. Instead when I think about it, I get wet. I get horny. And this horrific guilt, this horrible feeling at me getting horny occurs. I hate the fact that nearly every single time I masturbate, the one thing that came make me cum is that event. I hate that every time I have really good sex, I ALWAYS think of that time. Not right now, but that's because I am on painkillers from my surgery (knee surgery, ugh) and its hard for me to get aroused. Maybe that is why I feel so confident to even write this right now.

I haven't told anyone in the world about what happened. I feel so ashamed. It is not just getting raped. If it was just that, I would tell people. The shame of enjoying it, the shame of moaning so much that it boosted my rapists ego. I wonder how that made him think "I can just rape girls until they enjoy it, hell yeah" and how many girls he tried that on. I hate that the experienced has ruined my sexuality and that every time I think about sex, that event lingers. I hate that my rape was the best orgasm I have ever had in my life. I hate it. I hate it i hate it i hate it.
(@ggg.tv๐Ÿคซ @PsychoDsk)
 
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my future wife
 
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Whore
 
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Posted it again award
 
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Just a warning, this depicts a rape. Vividly.

This was 2015. I was in Argentina at a party, and I was pretty drunk so I went upstairs to the bedroom while there was a big party going on downstairs. Some guy came in and saw me and I wasn't really awake, I was coming down on some drugs, and he got into the bed and started feeling me up suddenly. I felt his cock touch my thigh and all of the sudden I just JOLTED awake and then he held me down, hard, on the bed, and started making out with me while holding me down. I struggled and struggled for a solid minute, I tried shouting but he kept making out with me. I remember biting his lip at one point and he just kept making out with me to keep me quiet. But then he entered me. I was so tight. It hurt, his penis was big. And then something just... came over me. I was on drugs, I think some kind of mix of ecstasy and amphetamines, and I was drunk, maybe that played a role. But after a few thrusts I just gave in and let him fuck me, and he was still holding me down so hard but he was so... just attractive and hairy and muscular and I was so attracted to him at the time. I remember feeling his muscles against me and feeling just overwhelmed by the raw masculine sexuality of it all. I wish I could say that I continued to struggle. I wish I could say that I kept trying to push him off and that I hated every second of it. Instead after a few thrusts, I just wrapped my arms and legs around him and let him fuck me. I started to moan slightly. I remember someone walked in briefly, they saw me under him moaning. I could have yelled help. I could have done anything right then, I could have said "PLEASE THIS MAN IS RAPING ME!!". Instead I just laid there and let him fuck me, and my rapist told the guy to shut the door and the guy said something like "haha nice" or some shit like that. And then my rapist went right back to it, harder than before. And something about the forcefulness and the raw muscular feral strength of it all just overwhelmed me and I came, hard, for a long time. Like, my thighs were shaking, I was moaning loudly. It was obvious to him that I was. And I saw the worst sight of him smiling at the sight of me having an orgasm, this horrible, confident smile which said "hell yeah, I am awesome". I remember my brain just went haywire at that moment, I was so angry I wanted to fucking kill him, and simultaneously my pleasure center was just exploding. Then he came, inside of me. He just lay on top of me afterwards for a bit, and he said "that was good, right?". I didn't even know what to say. I had bruises on my shoulder from him holding me down. My vagina was a tiny bit bloody. But he knew I came. He knew that I enjoyed it, a lot. I didn't respond to him, I think he knew that he had raped me, but some part of me thinks that maybe he wasn't even sure, but how could he not be? I was struggling for the first half. He fucking woke me up by rubbing his cock against me. He knew what he had done. He eventually just got up and got dressed and went downstairs to the party and I just laid there, astounded at what had happened, completely in shock and awe at it. He didn't use a condom. I got tested, of course. I never reported it to the police, I wasn't a native to the country and someone saw me literally moaning under him.

Its been 3 years and I hate it so much. I almost wish it was horrible sex, I wish he wasn't so attractive, I wish he was some fat greasy slob so that when I think about it I can just think universal hate for the event. Instead when I think about it, I get wet. I get horny. And this horrific guilt, this horrible feeling at me getting horny occurs. I hate the fact that nearly every single time I masturbate, the one thing that came make me cum is that event. I hate that every time I have really good sex, I ALWAYS think of that time. Not right now, but that's because I am on painkillers from my surgery (knee surgery, ugh) and its hard for me to get aroused. Maybe that is why I feel so confident to even write this right now.

I haven't told anyone in the world about what happened. I feel so ashamed. It is not just getting raped. If it was just that, I would tell people. The shame of enjoying it, the shame of moaning so much that it boosted my rapists ego. I wonder how that made him think "I can just rape girls until they enjoy it, hell yeah" and how many girls he tried that on. I hate that the experienced has ruined my sexuality and that every time I think about sex, that event lingers. I hate that my rape was the best orgasm I have ever had in my life. I hate it. I hate it i hate it i hate it.
(@ggg.tv๐Ÿคซ @PsychoDsk)
Do you need to talk?
 
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Fek
 
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Reposted from reddit r/rapevictims or some shit
 
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Just a warning, this depicts a rape. Vividly.

This was 2015. I was in Argentina at a party, and I was pretty drunk so I went upstairs to the bedroom while there was a big party going on downstairs. Some guy came in and saw me and I wasn't really awake, I was coming down on some drugs, and he got into the bed and started feeling me up suddenly. I felt his cock touch my thigh and all of the sudden I just JOLTED awake and then he held me down, hard, on the bed, and started making out with me while holding me down. I struggled and struggled for a solid minute, I tried shouting but he kept making out with me. I remember biting his lip at one point and he just kept making out with me to keep me quiet. But then he entered me. I was so tight. It hurt, his penis was big. And then something just... came over me. I was on drugs, I think some kind of mix of ecstasy and amphetamines, and I was drunk, maybe that played a role. But after a few thrusts I just gave in and let him fuck me, and he was still holding me down so hard but he was so... just attractive and hairy and muscular and I was so attracted to him at the time. I remember feeling his muscles against me and feeling just overwhelmed by the raw masculine sexuality of it all. I wish I could say that I continued to struggle. I wish I could say that I kept trying to push him off and that I hated every second of it. Instead after a few thrusts, I just wrapped my arms and legs around him and let him fuck me. I started to moan slightly. I remember someone walked in briefly, they saw me under him moaning. I could have yelled help. I could have done anything right then, I could have said "PLEASE THIS MAN IS RAPING ME!!". Instead I just laid there and let him fuck me, and my rapist told the guy to shut the door and the guy said something like "haha nice" or some shit like that. And then my rapist went right back to it, harder than before. And something about the forcefulness and the raw muscular feral strength of it all just overwhelmed me and I came, hard, for a long time. Like, my thighs were shaking, I was moaning loudly. It was obvious to him that I was. And I saw the worst sight of him smiling at the sight of me having an orgasm, this horrible, confident smile which said "hell yeah, I am awesome". I remember my brain just went haywire at that moment, I was so angry I wanted to fucking kill him, and simultaneously my pleasure center was just exploding. Then he came, inside of me. He just lay on top of me afterwards for a bit, and he said "that was good, right?". I didn't even know what to say. I had bruises on my shoulder from him holding me down. My vagina was a tiny bit bloody. But he knew I came. He knew that I enjoyed it, a lot. I didn't respond to him, I think he knew that he had raped me, but some part of me thinks that maybe he wasn't even sure, but how could he not be? I was struggling for the first half. He fucking woke me up by rubbing his cock against me. He knew what he had done. He eventually just got up and got dressed and went downstairs to the party and I just laid there, astounded at what had happened, completely in shock and awe at it. He didn't use a condom. I got tested, of course. I never reported it to the police, I wasn't a native to the country and someone saw me literally moaning under him.

Its been 3 years and I hate it so much. I almost wish it was horrible sex, I wish he wasn't so attractive, I wish he was some fat greasy slob so that when I think about it I can just think universal hate for the event. Instead when I think about it, I get wet. I get horny. And this horrific guilt, this horrible feeling at me getting horny occurs. I hate the fact that nearly every single time I masturbate, the one thing that came make me cum is that event. I hate that every time I have really good sex, I ALWAYS think of that time. Not right now, but that's because I am on painkillers from my surgery (knee surgery, ugh) and its hard for me to get aroused. Maybe that is why I feel so confident to even write this right now.

I haven't told anyone in the world about what happened. I feel so ashamed. It is not just getting raped. If it was just that, I would tell people. The shame of enjoying it, the shame of moaning so much that it boosted my rapists ego. I wonder how that made him think "I can just rape girls until they enjoy it, hell yeah" and how many girls he tried that on. I hate that the experienced has ruined my sexuality and that every time I think about sex, that event lingers. I hate that my rape was the best orgasm I have ever had in my life. I hate it. I hate it i hate it i hate it.
(@ggg.tv๐Ÿคซ @PsychoDsk)
Raped by Drago, brutal
 
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1717356447441
 
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How many fucking time will ppl repost this
 
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ืจืง ืื–ื”ืจื”, ื–ื” ืžืชืืจ ืื•ื ืก ื‘ืฆื•ืจื” ืžืคื•ืจื˜ืช.

ื–ื” ื”ื™ื” ื‘-2015. ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ื‘ืืจื’ื ื˜ื™ื ื” ื‘ืžืกื™ื‘ื”, ื•ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ื“ื™ ืฉื™ื›ื•ืจื” ืื– ืขืœื™ืชื™ ืœื—ื“ืจ ื”ืฉื™ื ื” ื‘ื–ืžืŸ ืฉื”ื™ื™ืชื” ืžืกื™ื‘ื” ื’ื“ื•ืœื” ื‘ืงื•ืžื” ื”ืชื—ืชื•ื ื”. ืื™ื–ื” ื‘ื—ื•ืจ ื ื›ื ืก ื•ืจืื” ืื•ืชื™ ื•ืœื ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืžืžืฉ ืขืจื”, ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืชื—ืช ื”ืฉืคืขืช ืกืžื™ื, ื•ื”ื•ื ื ื›ื ืก ืœืžื™ื˜ื” ื•ื”ืชื—ื™ืœ ืœื’ืขืช ื‘ื™ ืคืชืื•ื. ื”ืจื’ืฉืชื™ ืืช ื”ื–ื™ืŸ ืฉืœื• ื ื•ื’ืข ื‘ื™ืจืš ืฉืœื™ ื•ืคืชืื•ื ื”ืชืขื•ืจืจืชื™ ื•ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืขืจื” ืœื—ืœื•ื˜ื™ืŸ, ื•ืื– ื”ื•ื ื”ื—ื–ื™ืง ืื•ืชื™ ื—ื–ืง ืขืœ ื”ืžื™ื˜ื” ื•ื”ืชื—ื™ืœ ืœื ืฉืง ืื•ืชื™ ื‘ื–ืžืŸ ืฉื”ื—ื–ื™ืง ืื•ืชื™. ื ืื‘ืงืชื™ ื•ื ืื‘ืงืชื™ ื‘ืžืฉืš ื“ืงื” ืฉืœืžื”, ื ื™ืกื™ืชื™ ืœืฆืขื•ืง ืื‘ืœ ื”ื•ื ื”ืžืฉื™ืš ืœื ืฉืง ืื•ืชื™. ืื ื™ ื–ื•ื›ืจืช ืฉื ืฉื›ืชื™ ืืช ื”ืฉืคื” ืฉืœื• ื‘ื ืงื•ื“ื” ืื—ืช ื•ื”ื•ื ืคืฉื•ื˜ ื”ืžืฉื™ืš ืœื ืฉืง ืื•ืชื™ ื›ื“ื™ ืœื”ืฉืชื™ืง ืื•ืชื™. ื•ืื– ื”ื•ื ื ื›ื ืก ืœืชื•ื›ื™. ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ื›ืœ ื›ืš ืฆืจื”. ื–ื” ื›ืื‘, ื”ื–ื™ืŸ ืฉืœื• ื”ื™ื” ื’ื“ื•ืœ. ื•ืื– ืžืฉื”ื• ืคืฉื•ื˜... ื”ืฉืชืœื˜ ืขืœื™. ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืขืœ ืกืžื™ื, ืื ื™ ื—ื•ืฉื‘ืช ืชืขืจื•ื‘ืช ืฉืœ ืืงืกื˜ื–ื™ ื•ืืžืคื˜ืžื™ื ื™ื, ื•ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืฉื™ื›ื•ืจื”, ืื•ืœื™ ื–ื” ืฉื™ื—ืง ืชืคืงื™ื“. ืื‘ืœ ืื—ืจื™ ื›ืžื” ื“ื—ื™ืคื•ืช ืคืฉื•ื˜ ื ื›ื ืขืชื™ ื•ื ืชืชื™ ืœื• ืœื–ื™ื™ืŸ ืื•ืชื™, ื•ื”ื•ื ืขื“ื™ื™ืŸ ื”ื—ื–ื™ืง ืื•ืชื™ ื—ื–ืง ื›ืœ ื›ืš ืื‘ืœ ื”ื•ื ื”ื™ื” ื›ืœ ื›ืš... ืคืฉื•ื˜ ืื˜ืจืงื˜ื™ื‘ื™ ื•ืฉืขื™ืจ ื•ืฉืจื™ืจื™ ื•ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ื›ืœ ื›ืš ื ืžืฉื›ืช ืืœื™ื• ื‘ืื•ืชื• ื–ืžืŸ. ืื ื™ ื–ื•ื›ืจืช ืฉื”ืจื’ืฉืชื™ ืืช ื”ืฉืจื™ืจื™ื ืฉืœื• ื ื’ื“ื™ ื•ื”ืจื’ืฉืชื™ ืคืฉื•ื˜ ื”ืžื•ืžื” ืžื”ืžื™ื ื™ื•ืช ื”ื’ื‘ืจื™ืช ื”ื—ื–ืงื” ืฉืœ ื–ื” ื”ื›ืœ. ื”ืœื•ื•ืื™ ื•ื™ื›ื•ืœืชื™ ืœื•ืžืจ ืฉื”ืžืฉื›ืชื™ ืœื”ื™ืื‘ืง. ื”ืœื•ื•ืื™ ื•ื™ื›ื•ืœืชื™ ืœื•ืžืจ ืฉื”ืžืฉื›ืชื™ ืœื ืกื•ืช ืœื“ื—ื•ืฃ ืื•ืชื• ื•ืฉื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืฉื•ื ืืช ื›ืœ ืจื’ืข ืžื–ื”. ื‘ืžืงื•ื ื–ืืช ืื—ืจื™ ื›ืžื” ื“ื—ื™ืคื•ืช, ืคืฉื•ื˜ ื›ืจื›ืชื™ ืืช ื”ื–ืจื•ืขื•ืช ื•ื”ืจื’ืœื™ื™ื ืฉืœื™ ืกื‘ื™ื‘ื• ื•ื ืชืชื™ ืœื• ืœื–ื™ื™ืŸ ืื•ืชื™. ื”ืชื—ืœืชื™ ืœื’ื ื•ื— ืžืขื˜. ืื ื™ ื–ื•ื›ืจืช ืฉืžื™ืฉื”ื• ื ื›ื ืก ืœื–ืžืŸ ืงืฆืจ, ื”ื ืจืื• ืื•ืชื™ ืชื—ืชื™ื• ื’ื•ื ื—ืช. ื™ื›ื•ืœืชื™ ืœืฆืขื•ืง ืœืขื–ืจื”. ื™ื›ื•ืœืชื™ ืœืขืฉื•ืช ืžืฉื”ื• ื‘ืื•ืชื• ืจื’ืข, ื™ื›ื•ืœืชื™ ืœื•ืžืจ "ื‘ื‘ืงืฉื” ื”ืื™ืฉ ื”ื–ื” ืื•ื ืก ืื•ืชื™!!". ื‘ืžืงื•ื ื–ืืช ืคืฉื•ื˜ ื ืฉื›ื‘ืชื™ ืฉื ื•ื ืชืชื™ ืœื• ืœื–ื™ื™ืŸ ืื•ืชื™, ื•ื”ืื ืก ืฉืœื™ ืืžืจ ืœื‘ื—ื•ืจ ืœืกื’ื•ืจ ืืช ื”ื“ืœืช ื•ื”ื‘ื—ื•ืจ ืืžืจ ืžืฉื”ื• ื›ืžื• "ื•ื•ืื• ื™ืคื”" ืื• ืžืฉื”ื• ื›ื–ื”. ื•ืื– ื”ืื ืก ืฉืœื™ ื—ื–ืจ ืœื–ื”, ื—ื–ืง ื™ื•ืชืจ ืžืงื•ื“ื. ื•ืžืฉื”ื• ื‘ื›ื•ื—ื ื™ื•ืช ื•ื‘ื›ื•ื— ื”ื—ื™ื™ืชื™ ื”ืฉืจื™ืจื™ ืฉืœ ื–ื” ืคืฉื•ื˜ ื”ืžื ืื•ืชื™ ื•ื’ืžืจืชื™, ื—ื–ืง, ื‘ืžืฉืš ื–ืžืŸ ืจื‘. ื›ืžื•, ื”ื™ืจื›ื™ื™ื ืฉืœื™ ืจืขื“ื•, ื’ื ื—ืชื™ ื‘ืงื•ืœ ืจื. ื–ื” ื”ื™ื” ื‘ืจื•ืจ ืœื• ืฉืื ื™ ื’ื•ืžืจืช. ื•ืจืื™ืชื™ ืืช ื”ืžืจืื” ื”ื›ื™ ื’ืจื•ืข ืฉืœื• ืžื—ื™ื™ืš ืœืžืจืื” ืฉืื ื™ ื’ื•ืžืจืช, ื”ื—ื™ื•ืš ื”ื ื•ืจื ื”ื–ื”, ื”ื‘ื˜ื•ื— ื‘ืขืฆืžื• ืฉืืžืจ "ื›ืŸ, ืื ื™ ืžื“ื”ื™ื". ืื ื™ ื–ื•ื›ืจืช ืฉื”ืžื•ื— ืฉืœื™ ืคืฉื•ื˜ ื”ืฉืชื’ืข ื‘ืื•ืชื• ืจื’ืข, ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ื›ืœ ื›ืš ื›ื•ืขืกืช ืจืฆื™ืชื™ ืœื”ืจื•ื’ ืื•ืชื•, ื•ื‘ืžืงื‘ื™ืœ ืžืจื›ื– ื”ืขื•ื ื’ ืฉืœื™ ืคืฉื•ื˜ ื”ืชืคื•ืฆืฅ. ื•ืื– ื”ื•ื ื’ืžืจ, ื‘ืชื•ื›ื™. ื”ื•ื ืคืฉื•ื˜ ื ืฉื›ื‘ ืขืœื™ ืื—ืจ ื›ืš ืงืฆืช, ื•ืืžืจ "ื–ื” ื”ื™ื” ื˜ื•ื‘, ื ื›ื•ืŸ?". ืœื ื™ื“ืขืชื™ ืžื” ืœื•ืžืจ. ื”ื™ื• ืœื™ ื—ื‘ื•ืจื•ืช ืขืœ ื”ื›ืชืฃ ืžื”ืื—ื™ื–ื” ืฉืœื•. ื”ื ืจืชื™ืง ืฉืœื™ ื”ื™ื” ืงืฆืช ืžื“ืžื. ืื‘ืœ ื”ื•ื ื™ื“ืข ืฉื’ืžืจืชื™. ื”ื•ื ื™ื“ืข ืฉื ื”ื ื™ืชื™ ืžื–ื”, ื”ืจื‘ื”. ืœื ื”ื’ื‘ืชื™ ืœื•, ืื ื™ ื—ื•ืฉื‘ืช ืฉื”ื•ื ื™ื“ืข ืฉื”ื•ื ืื ืก ืื•ืชื™, ืื‘ืœ ื—ืœืง ืžืžื ื™ ื—ื•ืฉื‘ ืฉืื•ืœื™ ื”ื•ื ืืคื™ืœื• ืœื ื”ื™ื” ื‘ื˜ื•ื—, ืื‘ืœ ืื™ืš ื”ื•ื ืœื ื™ื›ื•ืœ ืœื”ื™ื•ืช? ื ืื‘ืงืชื™ ื‘ืžื—ืฆื™ืช ื”ืจืืฉื•ื ื”. ื”ื•ื ื”ืขื™ืจ ืื•ืชื™ ื‘ืœื™ื˜ื•ืฃ ื”ื–ื™ืŸ ืฉืœื• ื ื’ื“ื™. ื”ื•ื ื™ื“ืข ืžื” ื”ื•ื ืขืฉื”. ื‘ืกื•ืคื• ืฉืœ ื“ื‘ืจ ื”ื•ื ืคืฉื•ื˜ ืงื ื•ื”ืชืœื‘ืฉ ื•ื™ืจื“ ืœืžื˜ื” ืœืžืกื™ื‘ื” ื•ืื ื™ ืคืฉื•ื˜ ื ืฉื›ื‘ืชื™ ืฉื, ื ื“ื”ืžืช ืžืžื” ืฉืงืจื”, ื‘ื”ืœื ืžื•ื—ืœื˜ ื•ื‘ืชื“ื”ืžื” ืžื–ื”. ื”ื•ื ืœื ื”ืฉืชืžืฉ ื‘ืงื•ื ื“ื•ื. ื ื‘ื“ืงืชื™, ื›ืžื•ื‘ืŸ. ืืฃ ืคืขื ืœื ื“ื™ื•ื•ื—ืชื™ ืขืœ ื–ื” ืœืžืฉื˜ืจื”, ืœื ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืชื•ืฉื‘ืช ื”ืžื“ื™ื ื” ื•ืžื™ืฉื”ื• ืจืื” ืื•ืชื™ ืžืžืฉ ื’ื•ื ื—ืช ืชื—ืชื™ื•.

ืขื‘ืจื• 3 ืฉื ื™ื ื•ืื ื™ ืฉื•ื ืืช ืืช ื–ื” ื›ืœ ื›ืš. ื›ืžืขื˜ ื”ืœื•ื•ืื™ ืฉื–ื” ื”ื™ื” ืžื™ืŸ ื ื•ืจื, ื”ืœื•ื•ืื™ ืฉื”ื•ื ืœื ื”ื™ื” ื›ืœ ื›ืš ืื˜ืจืงื˜ื™ื‘ื™, ื”ืœื•ื•ืื™ ืฉื”ื•ื ื”ื™ื” ืื™ื–ื” ืฉืžืŸ ื•ืžื’ืขื™ืœ ื›ื“ื™ ืฉื›ืืฉืจ ืื ื™ ื—ื•ืฉื‘ืช ืขืœ ื–ื” ืื•ื›ืœ ืคืฉื•ื˜ ืœื—ืฉื•ื‘ ืฉื ืื” ื›ืœืœื™ืช ืขืœ ื”ืื™ืจื•ืข. ื‘ืžืงื•ื ื–ืืช ื›ืฉืื ื™ ื—ื•ืฉื‘ืช ืขืœ ื–ื”, ืื ื™ ืžืชืจื˜ื‘ืช. ืื ื™ ื ื”ื™ื™ืช ื—ืจืžื ื™ืช. ื•ื”ืืฉื ื”ื ื•ืจื ื”ื–ื”, ื”ืชื—ื•ืฉื” ื”ื ื•ืจืื™ืช ื”ื–ื• ืฉืื ื™ ื ื”ื™ื™ืช ื—ืจืžื ื™ืช ืžืชืจื—ืฉืช. ืื ื™ ืฉื•ื ืืช ืืช ื”ืขื•ื‘ื“ื” ืฉื›ืžืขื˜ ื‘ื›ืœ ืคืขื ืฉืื ื™ ืžืื•ื ื ืช, ื”ื“ื‘ืจ ื”ื™ื—ื™ื“ ืฉื’ื•ืจื ืœื™ ืœื’ืžื•ืจ ื–ื” ื”ืื™ืจื•ืข ื”ื–ื”. ืื ื™ ืฉื•ื ืืช ืืช ื–ื” ืฉื‘ื›ืœ ืคืขื ืฉื™ืฉ ืœื™ ืกืงืก ื˜ื•ื‘ ื‘ืืžืช, ืื ื™ ืชืžื™ื“ ื—ื•ืฉื‘ืช ืขืœ ื”ืคืขื ื”ื”ื™ื. ืœื ืขื›ืฉื™ื•, ืื‘ืœ ื–ื” ื‘ื’ืœืœ ืฉืื ื™ ืขืœ ืžืฉื›ื›ื™ ื›ืื‘ื™ื ืžื”ื ื™ืชื•ื— ืฉืœื™ (ื ื™ืชื•ื— ื‘ืจืš, ืื•ืฃ) ื•ืงืฉื” ืœื™ ืœื”ืชืขื•ืจืจ. ืื•ืœื™ ื–ื• ื”ืกื™ื‘ื” ืฉืื ื™ ืžืจื’ื™ืฉื” ื›ืœ ื›ืš ื‘ื˜ื•ื—ื” ืœื›ืชื•ื‘ ืืช ื–ื” ื›ืจื’ืข.

ืœื ืกื™ืคืจืชื™ ืœืืฃ ืื—ื“ ื‘ืขื•ืœื ืžื” ืงืจื”. ืื ื™ ืžืจื’ื™ืฉื” ื›ืœ ื›ืš ืžืชื‘ื™ื™ืฉืช. ื–ื” ืœื ืจืง ืœื”ื™ืื ืก. ืื ื–ื” ื”ื™ื” ืจืง ื–ื”, ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืžืกืคืจืช ืœืื ืฉื™ื. ื”ื‘ื•ืฉื” ืžืœื™ื”ื ื•ืช ืžื–ื”, ื”ื‘ื•ืฉื” ืžื’ื ื™ื—ื•ืช ื—ื–ืงื•ืช ื›ืœ ื›ืš ืฉื–ื” ื”ืขืœื” ืืช ื”ืื’ื• ืฉืœ ื”ืื ืก ืฉืœื™. ืื ื™ ืชื•ื”ื” ืื™ืš ื–ื” ื’ืจื ืœื• ืœื—ืฉื•ื‘ "ืื ื™ ื™ื›ื•ืœ ืคืฉื•ื˜ ืœืื ื•ืก ื‘ื ื•ืช ืขื“ ืฉื”ืŸ ื ื”ื ื•ืช ืžื–ื”, ื›ืŸ" ื•ื›ืžื” ื‘ื ื•ืช ื”ื•ื ื ื™ืกื” ืืช ื–ื” ืขืœื™ื”ืŸ. ืื ื™ ืฉื•ื ืืช ืฉื”ื—ื•ื•ื™ื” ื”ืจืกื” ืœื™ ืืช ื”ืžื™ื ื™ื•ืช ื•ืฉื‘ื›ืœ ืคืขื ืฉืื ื™ ื—ื•ืฉื‘ืช ืขืœ ืกืงืก, ื”ืื™ืจื•ืข ื”ื”ื•ื ืžืจื—ืฃ. ืื ื™ ืฉื•ื ืืช ืฉื”ืื•ื ืก ืฉืœื™ ื”ื™ื” ื”ืื•ืจื’ื–ืžื” ื”ื›ื™ ื˜ื•ื‘ื” ืฉื”ื™ื™ืชื” ืœื™ ืื™ ืคืขื ื‘ื—ื™ื™ื. ืื ื™ ืฉื•ื ืืช ืืช ื–ื”. ืื ื™ ืฉื•ื ืืช ืืช ื–ื”, ืื ื™ ืฉื•ื ืืช ืืช ื–ื”, ืื ื™ ืฉื•ื ืืช ืืช ื–ื”.
 

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