An episode of Eurotrash; my housemate’s copy of Razzle; Agent Provocateur’s erotica anthologies; xhamster.com; The Secretary; Sexcetera; the Television X ten minute freeviews; cam4.com freeshows; Basic Instinct and 9 Songs.

The above is just a very small selection of things that I have masturbated over in my time. From the adolescent lows of ferocious frigging to a snog in a soap opera to the dizzy heights of rubbing myself to female-to-male pre-op transsexual Buck Angel getting pummeled by a beefy guy called Stan (probably), I’ve not been shy in working my way through the pornographic spectrum. I once spent too many hours to publicly disclose in a euphoric haze hitting all the right spots with one hand and scrolling through PornHub videos with the other. I missed lunch, dinner, multiple phone calls and a day at university but it was worth it, if only for my glowing complexion as a result.

In short, I love pornography. It helps me to fulfill my voyeuristic instincts, helps me remember what other people’s genitals look like when I’m going through a dry spell and keeps my bedroom at a scorching level when I’m in a relationship. Granted, I’m not the biggest lover of the studio produced, big budget flicks as I’m not massively fond of the orgasmic wails that come from the likes of Charlie Sheen’s very own lovebug Bree Olsen and I definitely can’t say I get jealous when my other half spunks a load over a video or two.

If I came home from work to find my beau enjoying the videos on interracialbackyardanal.com (that has to exist, right?) then my instant reaction would not be that of jealously or insecurity. Instead, it would be to get the heck involved and kneel before him (or her!) to work my magic while they continued to enjoy the show playing out before their eyes. In my relationships, porn has a place: to keep the bed warm whenever I’m away and to enhance and inspire me to try naughtier things between the sheets. Having the visuals and hearing the audio of a pair – or group! – going at it like Duracell bunnies is quite a sexy accompaniment to the proceedings.

When the moment comes with my other half starts calling me Cody Lane by mistake and can only perform when logged into PornHub at the same time, I’ll start to worry. They can gladly have porn as a Mistress but, as far as I’m concerned, it’s a long way from shagging the neighbour and moving to Somerset to live in a caravan with her and her children from a previous marriage. If you are jealous of your partner because they enjoy watching a bit of rumpy-pumpy, you need to stop whining and get yourself involved.