Drilling

Monday night I'm on the bus. Just minding my own bus business when at the Oshawa Centre bus stop, two teens climbed aboard. They sat right in front of me. The boy popped his seat back and the girl kept her's upright.
Then, with no warning, they started drilling each other's throats with their tongues.
This was happening practically on my lap.
I had never been so taken aback by such a brazen level of PDA. Sure, I can handle the close-ups on television but when it's front of you, all of a sudden you feel like an awkward college roommate huddled in your bed, hands clamped over your ears, drowning out the sounds of what's happening in the bed across from you.
I don't know what disturbed me more, the fact that the bus was crowded and no f#cks were given, or that I could hear and observe the heavy nostril breathing as they sucked the fillings out of each other's molars.
At one point, as he bit and pulled her lip, she reached down and began to massage in between his legs.
I was stunned. No, really, stunned! I was 17 once but that stuff was contained. In a car. Secluded. Private.
Not on a bus.
Then, at one point, his phone chimed and while he was on her face again, he proceeded to type a message back. It was something about hamburgers and how many he wanted - in case you were wondering.
I decided to get up and move seats.