I have read some of these stories and have found several quite touching and close to my heart. I feel compelled to tell my own story, hoping other women can benefit from similar circumstances. My viewpoint is that a loving brother is much better than living with a violent drunkard of a husband. People need to be respected and loved, I ask nothing more; here is my story.

I was born in arguably Britain ’s most beautiful coastal town, way back in 1975. I can remember it as a small fishing village with a population of around 800 people with panoramic views and wonderful beaches. Mousehole (pronounced Mouse’ll) is situated in the county of Cornwall , in the Parish of Penzance, between the towns of Penzance and Land’s End . This is located in the most southern and western tip of England , right down the very bottom tip.

I had a brother some three years older than me, who I always looked up to, and was proud of. Matthew was my big brother, my protector and always kept an eye out for me. Whenever I was in trouble or felt down, I would always go to Matthew, rather than mum or dad. I guess we had an ordinary upbringing, with dad going to sea as a fisherman, often away for days or weeks on end. The winters were very long and cold and fine days were very rare.

Back in my childhood, I never regarded Matthew as a sexual object as such. Like all young siblings, we were put in the bath together by mum, but were never ashamed of our bodies and never knew about any birds or bees. I recall we bathed together from when I could first remember until I was about 9 or 10 and Matthew was around 12 or 13. It was when Matthew started growing hair around his penis and scrotum that mum decided that we were old enough to have to bath separately. I very rarely saw him naked in my teen years; once when I caught him masturbating in his room, and another time when a group of us went skinny dipping on private property on a nearby farm.

I was about 17 when I really first dated anyone, and I got to know a few of the guys intimately. Matthew had since left school and joined his father on a fishing trawler, and never had much time for women. I was down on the jetty one afternoon waiting for him to arrive back from a fishing trip and one of the crew on their boat asked me out. We dated a few times and I enjoyed his company. Matthew didn’t like this guy at all, saying he often got drunk and would then become violent. I never saw that side of him while we were dating. Matt told me that I had a life to live and he would never interfere with my decisions, but would be a guardian angel and offer advice when he saw it necessary to do so.

I guess I had maternal instincts and wanted to get married like any other girl in this small but wonderful village. When Sam asked me to marry him, I accepted, and our wedding date was on 19 June, 1994 . Sam and I moved into a little cottage of our own, while Matthew, my brother, stayed at home with mum and dad. I still saw Matthew regularly, but nowhere near as often as when we were living at home. Over the next two years, Sam’s demeanour worsened, staying out late at nights drinking after fishing on the trawler. He would arrive home drunk, abuse me, hit me, get off inside me and go to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, he would be gone again for another day. I was in a deep rut and going nowhere. I hated the way I was being treated. My parents offered me some help and consoling, but it was Matthew who really helped me through my bad times.

It was late 1996, just before Christmas, that mum and dad were returning home via Mousehole Ln. and a truck skidded off the road, hitting their car, killing both of them instantly. I was so distraught and my husband could offer me nothing at all. I became further depressed and my marriage was falling apart quickly. I was still constantly beaten by my husband but had nowhere to go. Matthew was living all alone in mum and dad’s old house after their tragic death.

One night Sam came home drunk as usual and demanded I cook him dinner and I threw the plate at him. He became very aggressive and attacked me, knocking me out. When I came to, the next morning, I was very sore and badly bruised. I made up my mind that I was never going to live or stay with Sam ever again. I packed up all my belongings and moved them into Matthew’s house, unpacking them in my old bed in my old room. When Matt came home from work that afternoon I was there waiting for him, telling him of the previous nights drama. When he saw my black eye and facial bruising, all he wanted was revenge on Sam. I told him I didn’t want revenge, but that I wanted a divorce, protection from Sam and to get my life back together. I could see tears welling in his eyes and he vowed there and then, that I would never be hurt again.

After preparing a meal for him that evening, we sat down and talked over many things, reminisced about our childhood, the good times we had together, our parents and the future. Matt phoned Sam later on and gave him a blast and a stern warning that if he ever hurt me again, that he would be found dead on St Clements Isle, across the bay. Matt sat beside me on the divan and cuddles me tight, giving me some reassurance and confidence. It was like the childhood days, I felt safe with my big protective brother. I went to bed that night feeling a little better, but not knowing what the future held for me.

The following day I contacted a lawyer regarding divorce procedures and what was required of me. The whole process of separation, counselling and hearing would take some two years before I was completely free of Sam. The first week staying at my brother’s place went by and was uneventful. While he was at work, I did the housework, tidied up, prepared the cooking and filled my time in well.   It was now early May, 1997 and I was feeling down a bit when lying in bed. I fell asleep but had woken up after having a flashback of my husband beating me. I woke up afraid, shaking and generally distressed and burst into tears.

I can remember walking to my brother’s room and opening his door and walking in during the early hours of the morning. I sat on the side of his bed and he must have been aware of my presence as he awoke soon after. He asked me what was wrong and told him of my flashback and that I was afraid. Matt asked me to lie beside him and we talked for a short time.

I was wearing a camisole and could detect from the feel of his body that he was sleeping naked. I cuddled up inside his protective arms and drifted into a sleep. I awoke on daybreak, expecting him to be gone to work, but he had taken the day off to look after me. Matt was still asleep and could feel his erection pressing against my butt. I hadn’t seen him naked for years. Turning over, I lifted the sheets a little and peered at his manliness which was standing very erect, despite still being asleep. He had really grown into a man at 25 with the head of his penis half uncovered by the sheath of skin that would normally hide the head of his cock. My nipples became a little harder and I was starting to think unimaginable things.

On waking soon after, Matt said he would phone in to the trawler and take a sickie. We spent the day together and went for a picnic down at Lands End. It was a healing day and much was discussed. I told Matt how wonderful it felt to be held and cuddled by him last night and also said to him, “Matt, when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t help but notice your erection after it was sticking into me.” He must have felt embarrassed and replied by saying “Sorry Angie, I always sleep naked and I never anticipated you sleeping with me last night. For whatever reason, I wake up every morning with a hard-on.” Matt went to ask about my sex life, or lack of, with Sam during our marriage. As our marriage deteriorated and his drinking worsened, Sam could never get it up and he could certainly never satisfy me.

Matt leaned over and gave me a reassuring hug and kiss, and told me how attractive I was, and that one day I would get married again and have children. I told him I was in no hurry to race into another relationship. Besides, I couldn’t get married for another two years when the divorce was anticipated. That night we chatted again some after dinner. Before going to bed, Matt asked me if I was still afraid, and would I like to sleep with him again. I thought about it and said yes as I loved his presence the previous night. I told him I would be in his room after taking a shower. I showered, dried myself and went through my clothes for something to wear. I had a nice see-thru negligee and see thru panties that Sam had given me once. I put that on and entered Matt’s room. He had the bedside light on, reading, while waiting for me. He looked up and saw me and said “Angie, you look stunning, you are truly beautiful. I just wish you weren’t my sister.”

On getting into bed beside him, we faced each other on our sides and chatted a little. He gave me a hug and kiss and I loved the feel of his body beside me. Rolling onto his back, he talked about the day out we had together. I let my hand wander down from his chest, down his stomach and down to his groin. I could feel a hard erect cock in my hand and rubbed it a bit. “What are you doing Angie?” “You said before you wished I wasn’t your sister, what did you mean by that?” Matt said that I looked so attractive it made him so horny, that he would have had sex with any other woman under those circumstances.

I told Matt that he had always liked me and that we had a very special bonding together between us and that I wanted him. Pulling back the sheets and exposing his erect penis, I pulled back his foreskin and flicked my tongue around the head of his cock. As I went down on him, I tickled his balls with one hand; and with my other hand, I placed his hand on my pussy. He reciprocated without any objection and was finger fucking me, making me so slippery and wet.

“Take me now Matt, I need you inside me.” As he was already on his back, I got up and straddled him, then guided his erect cock inside me. Slowly at first until the shaft was completely lubricated, then with increasing speed, I rode him until he cum deep inside me. We kissed as lovers and held each other tight, until we fell asleep in each others arms. In the morning when he left for work, I tried to appreciate the gravity of what had just happened. For the first time in 2 years, I was happy and felt fulfilled. After that night, I slept with my brother from then on, every night he was home.

Inevitably I fell pregnant, something Sam could never accomplish. I was over the moon at the news, and Matt was happy with it as well. On the 16 th February 1998 Matthew Jr was born. At the hospital, they wanted to know who the father was for the birth certificate. I told them that I was not sure as I had been to a party 9 months ago and had several experiences with various guys. I told then that I wanted to retain my married name on the certificate and not my maiden name. This was all part of my plan I had devised since getting pregnant.

Being a small town of some 800 people, people being people, get nosy, and innuendo’s arise. You can’t keep things private in a small village. Villagers knew I was living with my brother since my separation from my husband and the accusations and whispers of incest arose. We of course denied any such involvement, but the innuendo’s never subsided. Some villagers treated us as though we had leprosy or something.

Some 12 months later I fell pregnant again with Matthew and we were expecting our second child. Matt Jr was healthy and growing up fast. Fearing we could not explain a second baby together, we decided to emigrate to Australia under different names; he with his birth name, and me under my married name. Although we could never get legally married, we could live under a defacto relationship in a country where nobody knew us.

Four months into the pregnancy, the divorce came through and on July 30, 1999 , we flew to Australia to start a new life together. On 24 th December we were both given a Christmas present with the birth of a healthy baby daughter, Emily. We now live in a fishing town of Bermagui on the New South Wales coast in Australia and our children are both at school and growing fast. I have never been happier ever in my life.

I ask myself and other women in similar situations, “Is it wrong to be happy, to be loved, to be treated by a tender and loving person?”   A brother, who genuinely loves you, protects you and looks after you, must surely be better than living in the fear of violence, fear and terror. I ask you to be the judge.