Note: Fair warning: there are no graphic depictions of sex in this story.
Chapter-1
I grew up in an upper-middle-class family. We weren't filthy rich, not like multi-millionaires or anything but we lived in a huge all-brick home with all the amenities. Mom wanted a tennis court, so dad built her one. They both loved horses and owned four, which were stabled on my grandfather's farm, two quarter-horses, a pinto, and an appaloosa.
My dad, Andrew Davenport, is the COO of Donner Paints, Inc. which manufactures a variety of paint products. Donner Paints isn't one of the big three paint manufacturers but is still a very large corporation competing in the top ten in nationwide sales with numerous distributors. His annual salary was comfortably nestled in six figures, although I wouldn't learn what his actual salary was until I was much older. The plant employs close to 250 workers.
I was oblivious of my parents' favoritism for several years. My older brother by eighteen months, Brandon Andrew Davenport junior, proudly bore my father's name. I didn't have a problem with that. My father went by Andrew, so they called him Brandon. My name was less auspicious. I was born prematurely at four pounds eight ounces, with a cute cherub face, I was told. Mom argued that since my dad had named my brother, it was only fair that she name me. To keep the peace, he conceded. I wish he hadn't. She named me after her mother and her grandmother, proudly saying that they were the two strongest women she knew. I'm Ashley Quinn Davenport and go by Quinn. At least Quinn is a unisex name. I'm not sure if a man has gone by Ashley since the civil war. I remember seeing an Ashley as an important character in the movie 'Gone With the Wind' and clung to that image to bolster my masculinity.
By the time I was four, Brandon's physical prominence was becoming glaringly apparent. He was stout, athletic, and very good-looking. I was diminutive comparatively, not only because I was younger. At my age, he had been a much more impressive specimen than me. Mom and dad's partiality was obvious to us both. Birthdays and Christmas were exceptionally exciting times for my brother who invariably received more than he asked for while I received about half of my wish lists. But if we were going out to eat as a family, Brandon was asked where he'd like to go, and that's where we went. When I attempted to preemptively offer a suggestion before Brandon was asked, dad or mom would smile and say, "Let's see where Brandon wants to go," and that was that.
For as long as I can remember, my parents invited all of our extended family to our home every spring, summer, and fall for family picnics/parties. I loved to see all my cousins, aunts, and uncles, some of whom worked at the plant under my dad. But my favorite relative by far was my grandpa Davenport. He seemed immune to the bias shown to Brandon and spent much of his time with me at these picnics. It felt immensely rewarding that, of my entire family, I had at least one person in my corner, albeit the oldest member, perhaps but grandpa was the best. He always said he loved rooting for the underdog.
Starting the summer I had turned twelve, mom and dad told me that I was going to spend the summer with grandpa. I mean, I loved my grandpa and all but he lived on and worked a large 400-acre farm consisting of a variety of crops and animals. It was nice to visit for horseback riding and all but after a while, I'd soon be missing family activities, friends, and normal summertime fun. I wasn't given a choice, so I went. His farm was located in the country outside the city limits. Grandpa treated me like royalty. He catered to my every whim and made sure that I lacked for nothing. He let me drive his old beat-up farm truck anywhere I wanted on the farm even though I was too young for a driver's license. The emergency brake hadn't worked for years; the cable was rusty. I once saw him press hard on it with both feet, and it wouldn't budge. He said it didn't matter. After the first week, he introduced me to Juan Hernandez, who managed all the farmhands. I was slipped in with the other farmhands doing whatever Juan asked me to do. Mostly I fed the pigs and other barnyard animals and mucked the stalls. The cattle were tended by others, being in a field a mile away from the barn. Juan was a nice enough man but what I liked best was his daughter, Luisa Hernandez. She was eleven, a year younger than me. She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen, so I tried to hang around her as much as I could. She helped me better understand and appreciate the way of life as a farmer.
Once our chores were done, Luisa and I would often saddle up two horses and ride the farm boundaries together, checking the fences. We rode the quarter horses because of their easygoing temperament. Mine was the chestnut. We both looked forward to those rides when the weather was nice. For some reason, Luisa looked even better on a horse. We spent a lot of time brushing them down. Aside from horseback riding, Luisa was a runner. I was amazed at how that girl could run. For fun, she'd challenge me to footraces and I never stood a chance. More than a few times, I'd follow her on horseback as she would hone her cross-country running skills. She reminded me of the character in the movie 'Chariots of Fire', she was a natural. On rainy days, I'd drive her around the farm in grandpa's old farm truck for fun.
In junior high school, Brandon played football and basketball. He had several growth spurts that put him at six feet by eighth grade. I had no interest in sports but instead joined the chess club. Brandon was super popular, lettering in both sports. He mocked my chess trophy. I merely accepted that's what brothers do. What I lacked in physical prowess, I made up with wit and humor. I was quick with funny self-deprecating remarks and everyone seemed to enjoy my company. Bandon resented my growing popularity but knew I'd never rise to his level so he left me alone. Still, every summer, like clockwork, I was banished to grandpa's farm. Don't get me wrong, I dearly loved him. He treated me more like a son than a grandson but I wondered why Brandon never had to go to the farm. Life was never fair.
High school was a whole new world. Brandon was now six feet three inches tall with a muscled robust body somewhere between Adonis and Hercules. His chiseled good looks drew the attention of every female within eyeshot. His strength made him the team captain. I must admit, I was jealous of how well-liked Brandon was by the girls. He constantly dated but never had a steady girlfriend. He didn't need one. Nearly every girl in the school thought he was a dreamboat.
During my junior year of high school, Jenny Creedmoor and I became fast friends working together on the yearbook committee. She was in on planning and design while I was one of two designated candid photographers. She was also a cheerleader. I was surprised to merit her attention in any way. I was barely average looking, unlike my brother. Unfortunately, my growth spurts never matched his. I topped out at five feet six inches. I was only an inch taller than Jenny but still respectable. I'd seen Brandon as a senior ask many girls out casually but I was sweating as I finally developed the nerve to ask Jenny out on a date. I nearly passed out when she said yes. After a couple of months, we were both smitten with each other. I asked her to go steady with me, to be my girl, exclusively. She happily agreed as I slid my class ring on her finger. We frequently went out and talked often about our long-term future together. We agreed that after we both turned eighteen during our senior year, we'd then give each other the gift of our virginity.
At the end of that school year, my parents made a big production of Brandon's high school graduation. They wanted the whole family to attend his ceremony and honor his accomplishment. Though he graduated with only a 2.4 GPA, when he walked across the stage to accept his diploma, all the girls went crazy applauding and cheering for him.
Later that same afternoon, dad drove us all to the VFW facility where he had rented their huge dance hall for Brandon's surprise graduation party. Every member of our large extended family was in attendance, along with about a dozen of dad's close friends and coworkers from the plant but what excited Brandon the most was the presence of thirty to forty of his closest school chums, comprised mostly of girls. He was in seventh heaven. Dad had hired a live band for the event and had the entire celebration luxuriously catered with delectable food. Brandon received several congratulatory cards from those in attendance wishing him good luck for the future.
Right after the evening buffet was served, dad opened a garage door where everyone was herded outdoors. He proudly handed Brandon the keys to his graduation present and excitedly extolled its many features. It was a brand new Chevrolet Corvette Z06 with custom blue Pearlescent Paint. He touted it as the king of American performance cars. It sported 305-Section Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2-R tires, front and back. It had the optional carbon ceramic brake system, and a 5.5 liter V-8 670 HP engine with the quick shift 8-speed dual-clutch transmission. This baby goes from 0 to 60 in 2.6 seconds. My brother was super elated to receive this gift. He immediately took my parents for a spin in it but sternly informed me that I wasn't allowed to ever touch his new car. I was relieved. I wanted nothing to do with it or anything associated with him and walked away with a grin on my face.
