Hell, yes!

Without waiting for a response she straddles you - only possible in the confines of the booth due to her yoga flexibility - and grabs your exposed shaft to guide it under her skirt to her dripping wet snatch.

She lowered herself onto his hard cock slowly, adjusting herself in increments to fully bottom out. You watch her enraptured expression. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted, like the Ecstasy of St. Theresa in the flesh. When she's full impaled on your shaft, the moisture of her pussy lips rubbing directly on your full balls, she starts to grind. She moves slowly back and forth. Your cock barely moves in and out of her, but you feel the pressure of her clit on the base of your shaft.

"I know I won't cum from this master even though I want to so bad. I'm just your little plaything and I can tell by your meat throbbing inside me that you want to fill my tight little pussy again," she says, slower and softer than when you were fucking furiously in the changing room, "I want to cum and it's driving me crazy and I haven't stopped thinking of your cock since we left the house. You've made your respectable girlfriend into a slutty cock-hungry sex toy."

Her grinding picks up pace, she starts to moan, she speak louder. A mixed group of teens at a nearby table are all staring, whispering to each other. But not getting up to stop you.

"And I love it, I love being your little whore. Less than your whore. I'm just your set of wet and ready holes. I can't even cum and it still. Feels. So. Right!" she punctuates the last few words with more intense grinding. She has you close to bursting; you could speed this up and finish in her now but you like her teasing, her stretching it out, her slutty monologue.

You don't last much longer, and finally cum, unleashing spurt after spurt deep insider her. She doesn't stop her grinding as you do, but opens her eyes and kisses you gently on the lips.

"I'm happy I satisfied you, master," she says.

She's finally lifting off you when a flash of light distracts your attention from her. Some skinny asshole guy is holding his phone at an angle that surely captured what was going on under the table. He notices his blunder and wastes no time sprinting away.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" you yell, and shove Stacey off you. She looks after you in confusion as you get up and start to sprint after the young man, marker in one hand.