By Jamie-Lee Alexander

I really enjoy porn. Admitting that is something I never thought I’d do. At the absolute most, I thought the closest I would come would be a joke between my partner and me surrounding the fact that 90% of my books have at least some kind of erotica in them (shout out to Casey McQuinston – you made my day with that face sitting scene). When I take a second to think about it, I might actually be addicted.

I’m somewhat obsessed with sex. I’m not ashamed of that and I don’t think anyone should be. The honesty, vulnerability and sheer happiness sex can bring have always been something I’ve loved, and sex with myself has been a feature of my day since I was a teenager.

Like most, I wandered over to the Hub via a name I saw in a Youtube video. For some reason, I thought that would mean it wouldn’t show up in my browser history (I promise I wasn’t so naive in all aspects of my life). And that is how I started to explore the world of sex on screen.

It wasn’t until I got a little older that I started to consider how my porn consumption was affecting the way I saw myself. I’ve never been a person to watch content that degraded women (sticking mostly to the amateur and wlw tabs), but after coming out of the other side of what can only be described as a bit of a crisis surrounding my own body image, I realised that perhaps one influence on my self-esteem was the comparisons I was making to the women I saw during my ‘alone time’.

Porn is not real life. While it showcases the wondrous act of the horizontal tango, there are thousands of pounds worth of lighting, camera angles and makeup helping the two people (or more if you really want to get cheeky) on-screen look the best they can. There’s no sweating or coughing or – more importantly for me – rolls. How these women have their legs behind their heads and a completely flat stomach has always mesmerised me. It didn’t seem possible; it certainly wasn’t what I looked like in that position.

A few years on, and I’m still on the journey to accepting my body as it is. Part of that has been, to be frank, reviewing my wanking material. I never stopped loving porn and truly think it’s something every woman should experience. But when it can be so detrimental to how we view ourselves, the question is, how?

I believe the answer potentially lies in audio porn. This up-and-coming phenomenon is one centred around sound and is supposedly more likely to appeal to women than the typical eye-watering blowjob scene. It’s entirely audio, meaning that an element of imagination is required. Fear not, though, as it still provides enough stimulus for the unimaginative like myself.

It means you can see the various sexy scenarios however you want to see them. No more women with their bodies looking unrealistically perfect in pretzel positions. For me, it was game-changing. I had the veritable world at my fingertips (or more likely vibrator); all I needed was the app and a bit of imagination.

It’s hard to get over the visuals in traditional porn – to be able to see past the perfect bodies, extravagant lighting and general lack of bum crack sweat. For me, it distracted me from the pleasure on-screen and replaced the intimacy with an insecurity that I would simply never look that good. Audio porn has allowed me to re-embrace my love for pornography in a way that is good for my mind as well.

So, if you’re trying porn for the first time, or looking to redefine your viewing habits, trust me and tune into the finest listening experience since Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye.