The last thing Harsha heard were the screams of Viswa as he fell down the hill into the forest cover, along with the man who had come to help. He felt something soft on his hand. The gentle warmth of the skin, soft and cushy, was pressed against his face.
Harsha heard a hoarse but sweet voice groaning and shifting as the gentle feeling of softness gradually faded from his face. He got up groaning, gripping on the soft, cushy thing, and flickered his eyes open.
The "man" who fell down the steep hill along with him was seated up on his lap. The turban of the "man" had come off, revealing luscious, silky long hair following onto his shoulders. His clothes were torn, the chest bare open, and the sash holding up something was on his waist.
Harsha, grogging, squeezed softly on the cushy mound of warmth that elicited a soft groan from the "man" as his eyesight stabilized. He realized that the "man" was a woman, and the softness he felt on his hands was her breast.
