Hot Tramp, I Love You So!

I like tramps, or homeless people, I should say because when people refer to them as "tramps" i always get on my high horse about it. The vast majority of them are normal people, like you and me, they're just down on their luck somewhat. Sure, there's a few crack addicted ones letting the side down and I'm sure that the Kennel Club would have a few thngs to say about the dietary habits of their dogs, but most are good good people if you take the time to find out. Here's the first time I did;
I was in the Purple Turtle in Reading with a girl who wasn't my girlfriend. We were canoodling and having a few drinks and the like when my actual girlfriend, who had a deep hatred for the place and never went there (hence why i was in there), walked through the doors with her sister and saw me in the throes of public passion with this other young girl. Needless to say she went mental and ran over and pulled the girl by the hair, whilst i was kissing her, and headbutted me by smacking this poor unsuspecting girls head against mine, before launching into me with her nails out and her mouth barking. All hell was breaking loose; glasses were flying off the bar, bottles were getting knocked out of hands and poor old me was in the middle of it all. I endured a good 20 seconds of prising my young friend and my girlfriends sister apart, whilst getting my hair ripped out from behind when I decided enough was enough and made a run for it out the glass door and away into the night, leaving a trail of devastation, torn hair and screaming women behind me.
I got half way down the road when i realised that I was too strung out to go home and fancied carrying on drinking anyway. I looked at my watch. It was 1.45am. The Turtle was the only place that stayed open until 2 and my good friend Paul managed the place, so if i could hold out until everyone got kicked out I could go back for the all night lock in and make my merry way home in the morning. Opposite the Purple Turtle is a very old grave yard with lots of massive trees, with huge, twisted branches. I walked over to the biggest and, with a bit of drunken effort, climbed up onto the widest branch I could and lay back against the trunk, making myself as comfortable as possible whilst feeling like some some smug bastard Robin Hood like character as a surveyed all around me. From my vantage point I could see the Purple Turtle doors and i watched intently as hoards of people left the shitey night spot, screaming and puking as they went , but none of them were my girlfriend or my innocent battered ladybint. After about 20 minutes of keeping look out without spotting either target, I began to get a bit tired and soon drifted off to sleep safe in the bows of my crooked tree.
I opened my eyes and saw daylight poking through the leafy branches above me. I scrambled to sit upright as I tried to get a grasp on where the hours had gone and what was happening now. As i reached into my pocket to dig out my phone to check the time, I lost my balance and fell to my side and down onto the ground in a heap. Only it wasn't the ground. It was a groaning, upset tramp who had been sleeping peacefully in the balmy summers morning beneath the very branch I was laying in. "Ah! What? Fuckin hellll!" He grumbled in a deep Berkshire accent. "Oh Fuck! I'm really sorry! I didn't know you were there! I replied as a scrambled to my feet, sounding as if i always slept in a tree and jumped out at this time in the morning. We were both as strung out and confused as eachother and I spent the next couple of minutes trying to explain myself as he rubbed his bearded face and tried to come to terms with what had just fallen on him from a great height.
After we had both gotten over the shock and he had gotten his head and shattered nervous system around the fact that someone had just jumped out of a tree onto him, I took him for breakfast at a nearby burger shack as a way of apologising. We then swapped numbers, although he didn't have one so he told me where he usually slept at night when he wasn't under the tree and I promised to bring him a sleeping bag and a few other bits and pieces that he needed.
I don't like to think of myself as his sugar daddy because i rarely make him do sexy things to me, but that was 4 years ago and I still meet up for a chat and to give him things to this day. Everyone should sponser a tramp, if you ask me. My ones called Steve.