"I doubt that," Arlene said. "You're not a… man."

"You're saying a man might be able to help you?"

Arlene's eyes became moist, and a tear rolled down one smooth cheek. Peggy watched her clench her hands tightly. Peggy placed her warm palm over her sister's fist, concerned.

"I think we better go someplace else," Peggy said softly. "This appears serious, and needs a private place."

Peggy paid for the lunch and convinced Arlene to leave her car there and ride with her. She felt concerned for her sister as she drove home. Arlene leaned against her door and sobbed softly all the way.

Peggy pulled into the drive of her own home, seeing the garage door up and her son's bicycle gone. That was best, because Arlene didn't want to see anyone, not in her present condition. Peggy held her sister's hand as they entered the house, and didn't resist when Peggy had her sit on the couch. Peggy perched on the coffee table, facing her sister.

"Now, tell me about it, Arlene," she insisted in a gentle voice.

"Oh, Peggy!" Arlene sobbed. "I don't understand it, myself. With my first husband, I enjoyed… I mean, I always had… God, this is so shameful!"

Peggy waited, knowing her sister would eventually tell her what it was.

Arlene sobbed into her hands for a while. She was dressed in a becoming sheath, with slits up both sides of the skirt. Her flawlessly shaped tits were cupped tightly, their contours exposed. Peggy noticed the creaminess of Arlene's thigh.

"Okay," Arlene said, swallowing her sobs as she lifted her shoulders with determination. "The fact is, Peggy, I've not had one… you know, orgasm, since I've been married."

"You haven't?" Peggy asked, surprised.

Arlene shook her head, her wheat-blonde hair dancing gently on her shoulders. "Not once, with my present husband. I had them all time with my first husband, but now I never have them. It's driving me out of my mind, Peggy, and I don't know what to do."