“Uh, sir? I’m Oral Roberts.”St. Peter puts down his pen in surprise. “THE Oral Roberts?”“Uh, sir, I’m the only Oral Roberts that I know ...f. I suspect that I am.”St Peter muses. “Oral Roberts! Oral Roberts! My, my, my! Sir, please come with me God has been waiting for you!”Oral Roberts responds, “Sir, as have I been waiting to meet Him! Lead me onward!”St. Peter escorts his guest through Heaven, arriving at last at an imposing edifice, the House of God.Oral Roberts is directed to enter, and,. “I don’t get it.”“The vertical takeoff and landing thrusters work fine on low gravity worlds. Mars was about the limit, though. Anyplace with more gravity, like here, and we need runways.”“Well, you can still take a lot of weight off and come in slower, right?”“That’s true, but that brings up the problem of directional control. The denser atmosphere here can easily push harder than the control thrusters can. Get too slow and the aerodynamic controls lose authority. We can cut the approach speed. Groaning yet more, I continue to drive my meat into Riley's throat. Fuck—this b o y is good. In another minute or so, I detect yet more squeaking on the floor, and then the sounds of shower heads—at least two. Early risers—some of the guys showered up every day, even twice if they got real dirty. Some just like staying dirty—it was after-all, the woods. A few, including myself, engaged in the 'funk contest'. No shower all week long, with the contest being who could stink the loudest by Friday. Since I didn't know Leeds, it was a surprise to me when the car pulled back into his street. He had brought me back, possibly approving of my outburst. Still, the silence continued, and my mind ran over the dilemma that had been tearing at me. I was caught between the perception of two great wrongs, one of which was the long-learned belief that this kind of lifestyle was frowned upon, that any homosexual actions were unnatural or bad. Fortunately for me, my confidence that we are here,.