The Stretching Of The Ring Poem by James McLain

Bringing the cushion into class.
I will never forget the pain
my first torn anal experience,
even though it was something
that I really wanted to do.

During lunch I am speaking to
a shadow on the wall.
And I was with some guy
whom you said would come was caring.
Not experienced, and ever so so gentle.

I still ended up screaming,
with a horrific pain deep inside my guts.
I felt as if I had been stabbed,
and the pain didn't end as he withdrew the tip.
It got worse,
and it lasted for what seemed you know, like an hour.

The part that I expected to be slightly painful,
as the outer ring my innered rear was stretched
and perhaps split slightly down the middle still.

And to be quite honest
I thought that growing to a women
and those whom couldn't take it
were just stuck on being, being soft.

That was before that shadow on the wall
and I we tried it - and I met the real pain.

I have been there while I slept
and been raw and eaton, canned.
And beaten with a short and crooked mop,
both before I lost my anal ring
I was pulled not torn
Like the tide and my virginity and after,
and I once had the puffed up wooly wealts.

I would take another beating anyday,
rather than go through that
anal train of pain that knows no end to gain.